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CROSS ROADS, 


OR 


ISABEL ALISON’S HISTORY. 


BY MARY HALLOWAY. 

M 


** Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.” 

“ Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way ; 

But to act, that each to-morrow 
Find us farther than to-day.” 

« Men may rise on stepping-stones 
Of their dead selves to higher things.” 


j r> 3 

M O 
) ) » 

J > » 

PHILADELPHIA : 

THE AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 

1122 CHESTNUT STREET. 

NEW YORK: 8 and io bible house. 

Copyright, 1891, by The American Sunday-School Union. 




CONTENTS. 


Chapter. Page. 

I. WITH MRS. WARING .... 7-16 

II. A YOUNG MAN’S OPINIONS . . 17-36 

III. WHAT NEXT? 37-44 

IY. HOME AND SCHOOL PROBLEMS . 45-55 

V. TRIALS OF TEMPER .... 56-64 

VI. WORKING AND WAITING . . . 65-71 

VII. ALMOST AN ACCIDENT . . . 72-80 

VIII. HOME AT RIVERSIDE .... 81-93 

IX. FRANK AND OTHERS .... 94-108 

X. EASILY INFLUENCED .... 109-125 

XI. COLLEGE PRANKS 126-147 

XII. UNDER THE SHADOW .... 148-168 

XIII. MIXED GOOD AND EVIL . . . 169-185 

XIV. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE . . . 186-194 

XV. SUNSHINE 195-198 

XVI. ECLIPSE 199-210 

XVII. MIGHTY TO SAVE 211-227 

XVIII. HARD QUESTIONS 228-243 

XIX. DEAD HOPES 244-252 

XX. ANOTHER MARRIAGE .... 253-262 

XXI. GOOD-BYE TO OLD SCENES . . 263-273 

XXII. NEW OPENINGS 274-285 

XXIII. AMONG THE INDIANS . . . 286-290 

XXIV. TWO YEARS LATER 291-293 

( 3 ) 




PREFACE. 


To the reader of “Isabel Alison’s History” 
the author desires to say that it has been her 
endeavor to portray the gradual development 
of a noble character, under the trials and dis- 
cipline of a not impossible girlhood. At times 
the life-pathway may turn sharply from joy 
to sorrow, from darkness to light, as a cross 
road abruptty changes the course of a journey. 
Yet it has been her aim to show that these ap- 
parent “ cross roads” were in reality only steps, 
leading surely and steadily upward into the 
light, “ the true Light, which lighteth every man 
that cometh into the world.” 

“ All common things, each day’s events, 

That with the hour begin and end, 

Our pleasures and our discontents, 

Are rounds by which we may ascend. 


“ We have not wings, we cannot soar ; 

But we have feet to scale and climb, 
By slow degrees, by more and more, 
The cloudy summits of our time. 


( 5 ) 


PREFACE. 


“ The mighty pyramids of stone, 

That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, 

When nearer seen and better known, 

Are but gigantic flights of stairs. 

“ The heights by great men reached and kept, 
Were not attained by sudden flight ; 

But they, while their companions slept, 

Were toiling upward in the night. 

“ Standing on what too long we bore 
With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, 

We may discern, unseen before, 

A path to higher destinies. 

“ Nor deem the irrevocable Past, 

As wholly wasted, wholly vain, 

If rising on its wrecks at last 
To something nobler we attain.” 

— H. W. Longfellow. 


CROSS ROADS 


CHAPTER I. 

/ 

WITH MBS. WARING. 

Jan. 1st, 18 — . I have decided to keep a 
diary this year. I am lonely, have no one to 
talk to, and so will give vent to my feelings in 
this harmless little diary. No one will care to 
see it, so I can write as I please ; and if here- 
after I wish to recall my present life, for myself 
or others, I can thus do it more readily. 

It is only six months since I left school — 
happy Oriel — where the three best years of my 
life were spent, but I feel years older. Then I 
was only Isabel Alison, a school-girl, and there- 
fore privileged to indulge in many a girlish 
freak ; now I am “ Miss Alison,” the children’s 
governess, and must be staid and dignified. To 
be sure they are kind to me. Mrs. Waring is 
always kind and calm, but I feel at a distance 
from her. However, I have my own way to 
make in the world and am thankful for this 

( 7 ) 


8 


CROSS ROADS. 


opening. Since my father died, when I was a 
girl of fifteen, I have had no real home : board- 
ing-school, pleasant as it was for me, was not a 
home ; nor was the house which my mother took 
and wherein she made a home for others, who 
were boarders, and by which she and my little 
sister Katie were supported ; neither was the 
parsonage, the home of my dear elder half-sister 
Margaret, although that was the nearest to 
home which I knew. But Allan has only a 
minister’s salary and a household to keep on it, 
and I, a minister’s daughter, know what that 
means. No, I must make my own way in the 
world, and help mother so that Katie can have 
some of the advantages I have enjoyed. I am 
thankful for health and strength and some other 
talents by which I may hope to help myself. 
Yet I am very lonely, far from all my dear ones, 
among strangers. I do not make friends read- 
ily, and we live so quietly here that I meet no 
one. 

Jan. 15th. A dull, dreary day, with grey 
skies, a cold drizzling rain, and bleak winds 
blowing about the house and swaying the bare 
branches of the maples outside my window. 
Lessons are over for the day and the children 
have gone to their mother. There is no pros- 
pect for walking, so I seek a vent in my 
journal. 


WITH MRS. WARING. 


9 


We had quite an event in our peaceful abode 
yesterday. Harry wanted some jam and slipped 
into the closet and attempted to help himself. 
As the jar was on an upper shelf he climbed on 
the lower one to reach it. He lost his balance 
and fell backward, striking his head on the edge 
of a box and making a deep cut in his head. 
The fall and his screams soon brought all the 
family to the spot. Mrs. Waring faints at the 
sight, of blood and so could do nothing, while 
Minnie and Clara set up a piteous howl. I was 
alarmed when I saw how deep the wound was, 
but bound it up as tightly as I could and sent 
Jane for the doctor. He came and said the 
wound must be sewed up, whereat Mrs. Waring 
hurried off to the third story at once, leaving 
me to help the doctor. It is well I have 
“ nerve,” for the occasion called for it. Harry 
screamed lustily and resisted vigorously at first, 
but was finally brought to terms by the doctor 
and myself combined. After it was all over 
the doctor complimented me on my “ courage,” 
but I had to go to my room and lie down with 
a headache. Dr. G. is very pleasant and polite, 
but he has red hair. 

Jan. 19th. The weather continues cold and 
the days are dark. How I long for a little 
brightness again ! This day has been particu- 
larly trying. Harry has not entirely recovered 


10 


CROSS ROADS. 


from his fall and so is excused from lessons 
whenever he wishes — which occurs quite often. 
For my own sake, I could wish that he were 
either entirely well or entirely sick, for then he 
would be out of the way ; but now he is con- 
tinually teasing Minnie or making Clara discon- 
tented because, as she says, I make her study 
all the time and let Harry do as he pleases. I 
told her at length that she might fall down and 
break her head if she wished and then I would 
excuse her from lessons with the greatest 
pleasure. I fear I am rather sharp sometimes, 
but they do try my patience amazingly ; and I 
confess I am not an advocate of moral suasion 
always. I long at times to administer a little 
wholesome discipline. I fancy it would do 
good, but Mrs. Waring would be shocked at 
such a suggestion for her darlings. 

Feb. 6th. In despair of the clouds ever 
holding up their dull showers, I donned water- 
proof and rubbers this afternoon and went out 
for a short walk, but the wind blew the driving 
rain and sleet in my face and nearly carried off 
my umbrella; so I returned in half an hour 
thankful for shelter again. Curled up in a 
corner of the library, with a bright fire in the 
grate, while the wind howled in vain for entrance, 
I realized that I had many more blessings than I 
deserved. How many poor souls may be home- 


WITH MRS. WARING. 


11 


less and shelterless to-night, knowing little of 
such ease and luxury! I am ashamed of my 
selfish repinings. 

This library is a great comfort to me. The 
book-case is well stored both as to quantity and 
quality. I have read but little heretofore, for 
at school I had only time for study ; but now 
after school hours I find relief from loneliness 
in books. They are my society and while away 
many an hour that otherwise would be dreary 
enough. I have much enjoyed Scott’s works 
this winter, and Rebecca and Ivanhoe, Amy 
Robsart and Leicester have been daily com- 
panions. I found Dickens’ works also and lived 
with Little Dorrit or Esther for daj r s and 
nights. But not to confine myself entirely to 
romance I have pored over Milton and Shake- 
speare, Tennyson and Mrs. Browning and dipped 
deeply into Prescott and Macaulay and Liv- 
ingstone’s Travels. With such a rich fund of 
enjoyment I ought not to repine for lack of 
company, and in fact I never do when I am 
with them ; but sometimes when I am out of 
the library I do long for an old time chat 
with some girl friend. Two girls sit in front of 
me in church to whom I have spoken occasion- 
ally, and I do wish I knew them. I long to 
see the inside of some house beside this one. 
It is a queer feeling to walk the streets of a 


12 


CROSS ROADS. 


town full of homes and feel that you have no 
right to enter one of them. 

“ O, it was pitiful ! 

In a whole city full, 

Friend she had none.” 

March 9th. Last night Mrs. Waring asked 
me to come into the parlor and sing for her. 
She does not like sad music and says that she is 
sad enough and wants something to cheer her. 
For my part I like the sad songs much the 
best ; perhaps it is because I do not yet know 
what real trouble is. I have never felt, “I 
wish I were dead, but I’m no like to die” al- 
though I can sing it with expression. I have 
had my trials but no great sorrow ; my life has 
been a quiet, sheltered one thus far. It is said 
that everyone has a history ; what will mine be, 
dark or bright I wonder!. Time alone will 
show. Since our Father has seen best to con- 
ceal it from us and lead us onward step by step 
it is evident that he does not mean us to read 
our future beforehand. Let me walk along this 
quiet path patiently and thankfully, only mak- 
ing sure that it leads upward . 

We had a visitor, — Mrs. Waring’s brother 
from New York. It is unusual for us to have 
visitors, and his coming made quite an event in 
our quiet household. He is a tall, dark man 


WITH MRS. WARING. 


13 


with a large beard and full moustache. Harry 
declared, “He looks just like the picture of 
the gorilla in Miss Alison’s book.” Not very 
complimentary indeed, but his uncle only 
laughed and stroked his beard complacently. 

March 14th. Mrs. Waring certainly acts 
rather strangely of late. I do not understand 
her. To-day I asked for some new books for 
the children but she demurred, a thing I never 
knew her to do before, saying, u It is hardly 
worth while ; they can make their old ones last 
them a while longer,” hesitating and evi- 

dently finishing the sentence differently from 
what she had intended. She has talked of get- 
ting a pony carriage, but when Harry began to 
tease her about it yesterday she acted the same 
way with him and said, “ Wait a while, perhaps 
you will not need it. We do not know how it 
will be.” It is remarkable for her to refuse 
them anything. Can she have lost some of her 
money and fears she cannot live as formerly ? 
Her brother talked a good deal with her; he 
must have brought her some news. 

March 20th. The secret is out to-day ; Mrs. 
Waring has not lost her money, but she is 
going to Europe. Her brother is a member of 
some foreign embassy and goes to France in 
May. He wishes her to accompany him and 
educate the children abroad. He is unmarried 


14 


CROSS ROADS. 


and wishes to have her and the children about 
him. She is sad and lonely here and so con- 
sents. Her house is to be rented for some 
years. She called me into the library after 
breakfast and told me very kindly, compliment- 
ing me on my success with the children ; but 
she supposed I would not wish to leave my 
friends and go abroad indefinitely. I thanked 
her but said it would be impossible. Dearly as 
I should love to visit Europe and to travel, I 
could not leave mother. I must be where I can 
go to her if necessary. Mrs. Waring will pay 
my salary to the end of my year, because she 
cannot give me longer warning. It is only 
just — but still is kind in her and a great relief 
to me. 

March 25th. No more lessons ; this explains 
the refusal of the new books. The family goes 
to New York next month to make preparations. 
Mrs. Waring wishes me to assist her in packing 
and making ready to go ; so the children will be 
comparatively free from study henceforth. I 
hardly know whether to be glad or sorry. I am 
losing a comfortable home, but my life here has 
been so quiet and lonely that I can scarcely 
regret that this stage is ended, and through no 
fault of mine. I could not have given it up 
myself, but my heart feels lighter as I realize 
that my probation here is over. Surely I can 


WITH MRS. WARING. 


15 


find work elsewhere. Perhaps I may see 
something of the world of which I have only 
dreamed as yet. I am like a bird let loose from 
its cage ; yes, that is it, exactly : I am leaving 
my safe cage, seed, water and safety, for the 
delights and dangers of liberty — shelter and 
security, for what ? Shall I find another com- 
fortable nest, where I may sing while I may 
and be happy, or shall I be torn by briers, 
drenched by rain, starved or frozen ? Not so 
bad as that I hope. 

March 29th. A letter came to-day from 
Margaret, my dear elder sister, asking me to 
stop on my way home and pay them a visit. 
How gladly I write Yes. It will be a joy to 
meet my dear sister, not seen for two years, and 
darling baby Maggie whom I have never seen, 
to say nothing of my good, grave brother-in- 
law Allan, always so kind to me. 

April 4th. . My last night at Mrs. Waring’s. 
We spent the evening pleasantly together. At 
her request I sang a number of her favorite 
songs. She seemed quite touched as she said 
she might never hear me again, and I had 
always given her much pleasure by my singing. 
The children clung to me and could hardly be 
persuaded to go to bed and Minnie insisted on 
sleeping with me. They seem to understand 
the parting, and being too young to appreciate 


16 


CROSS ROADS. 


the trip to Europe are not greatly pleased at 
the change. Harry only is delighted at the 
idea of going on a “ ship,” and talks of whales, 
sharks, etc., with great glee. Our parting was 
a hurried one, on the train, as we traveled 
together as far as Hallam. The last thing I 
saw was Minnie’s handkerchief waving from 
the window. Good-bye to this chapter in my 
life. 


CHAPTER II. 


A YOUNG MAN’S OPINIONS. 

Allan was waiting for me at the station and 
his warm welcome and Margaret’s glad greeting 
were like balm. How delightful it is to feel that 
people love you and like to have you with them, 
to belong to them in short. Love is the secret 
spring and centre of the parsonage — love to 
God, to each other and to all men. In this 
atmosphere I seem to expand and all that is 
best in me finds utterance ; it is like sunlight to 
the flower, warmth to the frozen, bread to the 
hungry. I feel like another being and go about 
the house singing so gayly that Allan says it is 
evident my heart is not broken, if my situation 
is lost. 

Little Maggie is a darling pet, tiny and deli- 
cate. It is well she has such a loving home, for 
she seems one of those tender little blossoms 
that would wither and die in a less genial 
atmosphere. She puts out her little arms with 
such a pleading look in her blue eyes it would 
needs be a very hard heart that could refuse 
her. She soon overcame her shyness with me, 

2 ( 17 ) 


CROSS ROADS. 


• 18 

but if Margaret comes into the room I am for- 
gotten at once, and the little head nestles so 
confidingly on mamma’s shoulder. 

April 7 th : — 

“ I love thy kingdom, Lord, 

The house of thine abode, 

The church our dear Redeemer saved 
With his own precious blood.” 

Especially do I love this church at Hallam, 
where I first found my Saviour after seeking 
him blindly so many years. No other church 
is so dear to me as this. Many memories both 
sweet and bitter cluster about the church of 
my childhood, where my dear father loved and 
labored. At school I was a stranger, one of 
many, but here I have friends and I love the 
church. I hope Allan will never leave this 
place and indeed there seems little likelihood 
of it : his people are devoted to him, as indeed 
they ought to be, for he spares neither time 
nor strength in his devotion to their service. 
Margaret is a model minister’s wife ; the sick 
and sorrowing find ready sympathy with her, 
and relief if it is possible. Their life is like a 
beautiful poem and the silent influence of such 
a home must be a power for good, yet they 
seem unconscious of it all. I can imagine 
Allan or Margaret saying, “Lord, when saw 


A YOUNG MAN’S OPINIONS. 


19 


we tliee an hungered or athirst, etc. ? ” Surely 
to such will the answer be given, “ Inasmuch 
as ye have done it unto one of the least of 
these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” 
That was Allan’s text this morning. 

April 10th. This has been a lovely spring 
day. The trees are clothed in the most deli- 
cate green, the apple and cherry trees are in 
full blossom and the town looks like a great 
garden. I rambled into the woods this after- 
noon and found many of the earliest wild 
flowers, for the season is an early one, and 
came home in triumph. Oh how I delight in 
this spring weather ! After the long gloomy 
winter it is like entering on a new stage of 
existence to walk under the soft blue sky and 
watch the daily upspringing of life and beauty. 
I cannot walk soberly along, I must dance a 
little. 

“ No matter how barren the past has been, 

’Tis enough for us now that the grass is green.” 

How beautiful God has made this world! 
leaf and bud, blossom and flower, how perfect 
and delicate ! What a miracle is this yearly 
resurrection of nature ! A month ago who, 
without foreknowing, could have thought that 
from this dark, sodden earth and bare branches 
such wealth of beauty and sweetness could 


20 


CROSS ROADS 


spring forth ? Truly hath the psalmist de- 
clared, “ The fool hath said in his heart, there 
is no God.” No one but a fool could wit- 
ness this marvelous’ creation and utter such a 
sentiment. Why, too, do men cavil and deny 
the resurrection of the body? Is not this 
renewal of the natural world its type and prom- 
ise ? He who can so gloriously clothe the 
surface of the earth from leafless branch and 
rotten seed can also “ fashion our vile bodies 
like unto his glorious body.” 

April 15th. Last evening the Sunday-school 
superintendent, Mr. Howland, gave a “tea” 
to the teachers and officers, and I was invited 
as a stranger and friend of the pastor. It was 
so unusual an event for me that I felt quite 
excited. I wore my best spring dress, grey, 
with a black stripe and velvet trimmings, white 
lace at my throat and a bunch of scarlet 
geraniums. Margaret thought I looked “ very 
nice,” and I was satisfied with myself. Mr. 
Howland’s younger brother, just graduated 
from Yale, has come to spend some time with 
him. Of course he knows everything and does 
not mean to hide his light under a bushel while 
he is 'in company with such inferior creatures, 
girls especially. I was introduced but did not 
exert myself much for his entertainment. The 
girls all think he is “splendid,” as he conde- 


A YOUNG MAN’S OPINIONS. 21 

scends to be pleased by their efforts and evident 
admiration. We had music and I sang several 
songs, for which Mr. Howland, Jr., paid me 
some very fine compliments. 

April 17th. Yesterday I went for my usual 
walk and as it was a very fine day I wandered 
on far beyond the town and down by the river. 
It was growing late as I turned homeward with 
my hands full of flowers, singing softly to my- 
self for company when I suddenly encountered 
Robert Howland. 

“ It is very evident you are not a country 
girl, Miss Alison,” he said. “ No country-bred 
maiden would think of taking a solitary ramble 
or carrying home wild flowers. It is only those 
bred among bricks and mortar who truly appre- 
ciate the beauty of the woodlands.” 

I suppose he meant this for a compliment, so 
I delighted to reply, quietly, “Unfortunately 
for your theory, I am a country girl. I was born 
and 4 raised,’ as the saying is, in a much smaller 
town than this, and have never lived among 
‘ bricks and mortar ’ a year in my life.” 

“ Is it possible ! ” he replied rather discon- 
certed. “ I thought — I understood you came 
from New York.” 

“I was never in New York but once, and 
that was over two years ago, and for a short 
visit only,” I replied. 


22 


CROSS ROADS. 


“ But you have certainly not been brought 
up as a country girl,” he insisted. “ I do not 
believe you can make butter or milk cows, and 
you never learned to sing and play at a district 
school.” 

“ I did not say I was a farmer’s daughter,” I 
replied laughingly, “ but even yet I know 
enough to milk the cows before I make the 
butter; yet our New England villages are not 
so rustic that one may not find refined society 
in them, and a love for nature equal to that 
held by anyone born in a city. Do you not 
think so ? ” 

“Well, hardly; the contact with numbers in 
a large city, the influences of wealth and 
education, books, newspapers etc., must un- 
consciously educate any one not a block-head.” 

So we argued for some time and when he left 
me at the gate with a profound bow I thought 
better of him than I had done the night before, 
and had promised to sing for him some time 
when he called. 

April 19th. He called this evening. I had 
been left in charge of baby Maggie while her 
parents went to the weekly prayer-meeting, but 
the small damsel refused to go “ by-by” under the 
new nurse’s management and seemed inclined 
for a regular frolic, so I gave up and carried her 
down to the sitting-room. This being exactly 


A YOUNG MAN’S OPINIONS. 23 

what the young lady desired, we were in the 
midst of a grand romp when the bell rang and 
Joanna ushered in Mr. Howland, Jr. Baby 
looked very sweet in her little night-dress, but 
it is not just the garment you would choose in 
which to receive visitors; however there was 
nothing to do but make the best of* it. 

He professed to be very fond of babies and 
Maggie was delighted with a new admirer and 
when he actually took her in his arms she 
repaid him by pulling his hair. Of course all 
formality vanished before such an introduction, 
and when Margaret came in half an hour later 
we were all the best of friends. Baby was car- 
ried away with many kisses and scoldings, and 
I was left to entertain my visitor without fur- 
ther assistance. 

April 21st. Such a lovely Sabbath day as 
this has been ; every leaf and blade fresh and 
sparkling with dewy diamonds, like a new 
world fresh from the hands of its Creator. 
There seems a peculiar hush in the air, the* 
birds seem to sing more sweetly, the sun to 
shine more brightly than usual, for this is Eas- 
ter Sunday : “ He is not here, but is risen.” It 
seems easy to believe when we read the type in 
the world around us. Allan preached a beau- 
tiful Easter sermon. We had dressed the church 
with tall palms and lilies last evening, and I 


24 


CROSS ROADS. 


sang an anthem in addition to the usual church 
music, for which I was duly — or unduly praised. 
I enjoyed the short walk to Sunday-school this 
afternoon. Allan accompanied me, a rare treat, 
and as we talked quoted Lowell’s beautiful 
lines in the “ Vision of Sir Launfal : ” 

“ For a cap and bells our lives we pay ; 

Bubbles we buy with a whole soul’s tasking, 

’Tis Heaven alone that is given away, 

’Tis only God may be had for the asking. 

No price is set on the lavish summer, 

June may be had by the poorest comer.” 

April 24th. Margaret is a dear sister, I won- 
der how she contrives to keep her patience so 
well. Take this day for an example, as it is 
like many others ; there was ironing and bak- 
ing to see to, for Joanna had taken cold and was 
unable to work as well as usual ; the baby was 
restless and cross with cutting new teeth and 
would hardly let her mother out of her sight ; 
and, to crown all, just before dinner in walked 
two of the most tiresome old ladies in town. 
Margaret had to leave her work and her baby, and 
sit down for over an hour to listen to their tedi- 
ous accounts of one’s cold, and another’s trouble- 
some servants and “ Sister Ann’s husband’s se- 
vere illness.” I should have been tempted to 
cut their visit short in some way but Margaret 
neither by word or look showed that they were 


A YOUNG MAN’S OPINIONS. 25 

unwelcome, though for truth’s sake she did 
not say she “ was glad to see them.” I looked 
for some complaint after they left but she 
merely said, “I must make up for lost time,” 
and plunged into work again. 

“ Why did you not tell them you were very 
busy?” I asked. “I would not have waited 
so long, listening to their complaints and fool- 
ish talk about nothing.” 

“ I do not think the time was wasted, dear,” 
she said gently. “ As a lady and a minister’s 
wife I am bound to treat all my visitors cour- 
teously, and if it made them happier to tell me 
their troubles and receive such sympathy as I 
could bestow, I do not grudge the time, 
although I may wish they had come at a more 
convenient season. As for the 4 gossip ’ it was 
not ill-natured and I learned one fact at least I 
am glad to know. Poor Mrs. Evans ! no 
wonder she has stayed away from church, and 
I have wondered if she could be offended in 
any way.” 

Is not Margaret a model minister’s wife ? 
But it must take a great deal of time and 
patience to learn to fill that post gracefully. I 
do not think I could ever do it ; hope I shall 
not be tried. 

April 29th. Robert Howland called to take 
me out riding this afternoon. The day was 


26 


CROSS ROADS. 


lovely, the proposal tempting, and so I yielded 
and went with him. But we did not agree 
very well ; his “superior ” manner was in full 
force and he was much too flattering for my 
taste. At last I turned upon him and said 
curtly : 

“ Mr. Howland, I wish you would spare me 
your compliments ; I enjoy your society much 
more when you are not so personal in your 
remarks.” 

Not at all disconcerted he replied coolly: 

“ Ah ! you say so, but I never knew a lady yet 
who did not like a little flattery, however she 
may think it her duty to declare otherwise.” 

“ I do not consider it any mark of regard from 
a gentleman when he continually assures a lady 
that he considers her vanity excels her good 
sense,” I replied, rather sharply. 

“ But you surely will not deny that there is 
much more vanity in your sex than in ours.” 

“ Indeed I will ! As if there were not as 
much conceit in men as in women ! ” 

“ Oh no ! ” he said. “ A man knocks around 
the world and finds his own level. No matter 
how handsome or wealthy he may be, if he has 
any brains he finds out just how much he is 
worth in the world, individually,” he replied, 
provokingly. 

Of course I denied this as he no doubt ex- 


A YOUNG MAN’S OPINIONS. 


27 


pected. I suppose he did not think his remarks 
were too flattering for me to enjoy his society 
now. “ This is arguing in a circle,” I said at 
length, “ besides it is ridiculous for you to talk 
so.” 

“ Why ? Do you think I am conceited ? ” he 
asked in assumed amazement. 

And I provokingly quoted — 

“ ‘ O wad some power the giftie gie us/ ” 

He laughed, but presently said, “ I did not 
mean to include you. I know you are an 
exception to ordinary young ladies.” 

“ Thanks, I do not value a compliment at the 
expense of all womankind.” 

“ Well, let us make a treaty of peace. I will 
refrain from compliments if you will try to 
judge me more favorably. Will you do it? ” 

I accepted this proposal as frankly as it was 
made, and for the rest of the ride we had peace 
and enjoyed it. I like him rather better now. 

Baby Maggie is not well: her teeth are 
troubling her and she is pale and fretful. I 
persuaded Margaret to leave her with me last 
evening and go to church, as she had been home 
all day and baby seemed to be sleeping com- 
fortably. In half an hour however she woke 
and I could not get her quieted. Soon I saw a 
blue, pinched look about her little mouth, a 


28 


CROSS ROADS. 


slight twitching at the corners and a convul- 
sive movement of the little limbs. I screamed 
to Joanna for hot water, and tearing off baby’s 
clothes with trembling fingers got her into a hot 
bath while I sent Joanna for the doctor, whom 
I knew to be in the church. He came in about 
ten minutes but the worst was over then and 
he praised my presence of mind, saying I had 
done right. Margaret soon followed him, fear- 
ing she knew not what ; she saw the doctor go 
out. Oh, how white her face was as she hurried 
into the door ! I was glad she did not see baby 
till she looked more like herself ; such a strange 
look came over her dear little face, I thought 
she was dying. Thank God he has spared her 
to us all. I do not know how Allan managed 
to go on with his sermon and bring the services 
properly to a close, but he did it, though he set 
his lips when I asked him how. When he came 
home the doctor had gone and baby was sleep- 
ing quietly. She is such a delicate little flower, 
we tremble if anything goes wrong with her. 
One little lamb from this household has gone 
already to the Shepherd’s arms. O, dear 
Father, spare us this darling. 

May 2nd. Baby is much better and sits on 
the floor and plays with her toys, while her 
merry little laugh is heard again ; for a week 
we could hardly coax a smile on her pale, little 


A YOUNG MAN’S OPINIONS. 29 

face. I do not see how I could love a child of 
my own any better than I do her. I am sure I 
never want to if the pain at losing must cor- 
respond to the joy in having. 

May 9th. Robert Howland brought his 
buggy around for another drive this afternoon. 
It is still the loveliest of Spring weather. We 
took a road I had not seen before and, as the 
moon rose early, did not promise to return very 
soon. But before long distant rolls of thunder 
were heard, quickly drawing nearer, and I heard 
the rustling sounds of the rain as it came upon 
us. We hurried quickly toward an unfinished 
house, in which I took shelter while Robert took 
care of the horse. For some minutes the light- 
ning flashed, the thunder roared in loud peals 
and the rain fell in torrents ; then as the storm 
abated Robert fastened the horse to a paling 
and joined me. We sat on a carpenter’s bench. 
He was much concerned at having to leave me 
so long alone. 

“ Were you afraid ? ” he asked. 

“ Not exactly, I admire the grandeur of such 
a storm, and the thrill of excitement and 
danger is almost pleasant, just enough touched 
with fear to be impressive.” 

At last the clouds broke away revealing the 
sun near its setting. A lurid light gleamed out 
from behind a bank of heavy, purple clouds 


30 


CROSS ROADS. 


whose angry masses were piled up like huge 
mountains, the edges tipped with gold. As 
they moved slowly away patches of blue sky 
appeared. . The sun set in glory and we had a 
full view of it as we rode homeward. He soon 
sank behind his cloudy curtains and a soft dark- 
ness fell over the scene ; stars began to peep 
from the blue depths overhead and the young 
moon dispersed the last fleecy clouds. 

“Sunshine and lightning, sunset and moon- 
rise,” said Robert. “We are favored with a 
variety of nature’s mood’s to-day.” 

“ All alike beautiful, the one only making 
the other brighter by contrasts,” I replied, and 
with that we fell to discussing various aspects 
of nature. He appreciates its beauty, yet he 
seems to study with other eyes than I do. I 
found the key to this difference in some remarks 
he made just before we reached home. We 
had been speaking of the stars, speculating in 
a vague way perhaps, when he said, “ To the 
majority of mankind those stars are merely 
shining specks, lit up for their benefit ; they go 
grovelling along never lifting their eyes from 
this lump of earth which they imagine is the 

universe. Well, perhaps it is just as well ” 

with a sudden change of tone and manner, 
“ perhaps we are not intended for anything bet- 
ter. Eat, drink and make money, that is all 


A YOUNG MAN’S OPINIONS. 


31 


most people make of life and I do not know 
but they are as well off as we are.” 

He said this in such a bitter tone that I 
replied, “ That might be very well if they 
expected to live in this world forever, but some 
day they must look beyond this earth ; so it is 
best to begin in time.” 

“ How do you know that ? ” he demanded 
abruptly. “What proof have you of a future 
existence beyond the traditions of a book that 
many of our modern men have outgrown ? ” 

I was utterly taken aback. He had never been 
so outspoken before. “ Robert Howland, what 
do you mean? You speak as if you had no 
faith in God, nor belief in his word, and yet 
you have just been admiring and wondering at 
the grandeur of his works. I do not under- 
stand you.” _ 

“ Perhaps it is just as well you should not,” 
he replied, in his usual tone. “ See, there is the 
parsonage and I expect your sister will have a 
scolding for us.” 

Margaret heard the sound of wheels and ran 
out, quite anxious about us. I assured her all 
was right, and Mr. Howland set me down and 
drove off ; so there was no opportunity for 
further discussion. What can he mean ? He 
comes to church, he professes to admire Allan’s 
sermons, surely he is not an unbeliever. His 


32 


CROSS ROADS. 


college experiences have perhaps made him 
think it “ big ” to appear skeptical, a mark of a 
mind too large to accept the old truths. “ A 
little knowledge is a dangerous thing.” He 
needs to drink deeper if he would know the 
truth. 

May 24th. I did not feel very well this e ven- 
ing ; so, instead of going to church, I settled 
myself for a quiet evening with my book, but 
Robert Howland found that I did not come and 
walked back to “keep me company.” Our talk 
was not as lively as usual and it ran at length, 
with a little guidance, into the vein we had 
struck the night of the shower. 

“ What did you mean the other night ? ” I 
asked. “ Surely I did not understand you to 
deny belief in a future existence.” 

“ I hoped you had forgotten that speech,” he 
said, “ to tell the - truth I can hardly say what I 
believe. I have read and read and thought on 
the subject, heard so much and seen so little, 
that I scarcely know where I stand. At times 
I question everything and speak, as I did the 
other night, on the impulse of the moment, not 
so much expressing my own opinions as those 
of others. And now I suppose you have set 
me down as everything that is bad.” 

“It is of little moment what I think,” I said, 
soberly ; “ but if you do not know where you 


A YOUNG MAN’S OPINIONS. 


33 


stand on such a vital matter as this, should you 
not make it your first business to find out as 
soon as possible ? ” 

“ It is not an easy thing to do,” he replied. 
“ Nature tells you there is a God, the Bible 
speaks of a state of future happiness or misery ; 
most people profess to believe both, and yet the 
majority of men act as if there were neither 
God nor hereafter : this life takes all their time, 
thoughts and energies. How do you account 
for such inconsistencies? ” 

“ Don’t study other people. You have noth- 
ing to do with them ; you must give account 
only for yourself. Whatever others may say 
or do, you know there is a God ; you do think 
of matters beyond this life. It is not a matter 
of mere speculation where opinions are of no 
consequence. It won’t do to theorize about 
this.” 

We were sitting on the porch and there was 
little light, or I do not suppose I could have 
said so much ; but after he fairly began I could 
not help talking. 

“ I do not know that I am in such danger,” 
he said, quietly. 44 1 am no worse than a great 
many others who are church-members; if I 
make no profession at least I live up to my 
principles. I know men who make large pro- 
fessions of piety, and pray long and eloquently, 

3 


34 


CROSS ROADS. 


who yet do not hesitate to quarrel, to lie and 
cheat if it serves their business, and do 
many other and worse things which I will not 
tell you. Yet they profess to be Christians , 
are thought good men and I suppose if they 
died to-morrow would go straight to heaven, in 
the opinion of their friends. Don’t you think 
I have as good a chance as they ? ” 

“ That is not the point,” I urged. “ Their fail- 
ure, granting your sad picture, will not sink 
nor save you. If you should 4 die to-morrow ’ 
what do you think of your own 4 chance,’ as you 
call it?” 

44 Well, I don’t see why I should not stand 
the test as well as the majority ; I’ll risk it,” he 
answered lightly. 

I made no answer to this. What could I 
say ? How could I hope to make any impres- 
sion on him while he so constantly recurred to 
this one idea ? I felt so hopeless, so unable to 
say what I wished or ought, and yet so anxious 
to speak a word in season that my voice choked 
and tears stood in my eyes, which I vainly tried 
to conceal. 

44 Isabel ! tears, and for me ! ” he said in a 
very different tone. 44 Forgive me, I do not 
deserve that you should care ” 

I do not know what more he would have said, 
for just then the gate opened and Allan and 


A YOUNG MAN'S OPINIONS. 35 

Margaret came up the steps. I regained my 
composure as Allan lingered on the porch talk- 
ing to Robert for a little time. Then he went 
away without referring to the subject, unless 
an unusual pressure of my hand meant some- 
thing. 

May 27th. He called this morning to say 
good-bye for a week as he is going “ to take a 
run to New York on business.” Margaret and 
baby Maggie were in the room and our conver- 
sation- was on general subjects. 

June 3rd. I am going ‘ home,’ if so it can 
be called. Mother has written to me to come. 

There is an opening in a school in B , and she 

thinks if I am on the ground I may secure it. 
It is worth trying for; it will be very pleasant to 
be with mother once more. I could help her 
much and she is not very strong, yet I am sorry 
to leave here so suddenly and I shall not see 
Robert again. If I had only said more to him 
that night ! If I had known better what to say 
and how to say it ! I feel that I failed miser- 
ably in pointing him to something higher, and 
now I shall never have another chance. I have 
thought of so much since that I might have 
said, but it is too late. I little thought that 
evening would be our last talk ; yet so it is. It 
is not likely our paths in life will ever cross 
again. Yet I do not know that anything I 


36 


CROSS ROADS. 


might have said would have any effect on him ; 
he has a strong mind, he can think for himself. 
But one thing I can yet do : I can pray for 
him ; and if he is really seeking for truth there 
is One to help him who is ready and wise. If he 
is careless and unbelieving I can ask that a bet- 
ter spirit may be given him. O Robert ! You 
cannot prevent that, and our God has promised 
to answer such prayer. It is not his will that 
one soul should perish. I cannot think that a 
soul capable of such noble possibilities will be 
suffered to remain in doubt. So farewell, and 
if we never meet on earth I shall hope to see 
you in that hereafter where, even though you 
may doubt now, you shall know even as you 
are known. 


CHAPTER III. 


WHAT NEXT? 

June 15th. I arrived at home two days ago* 
just at dusk on a warm June day. The change 
from Hallam did not impress me favorably. 
I find brick walls and paved streets a poor sub- 
stitute for the gardens and lovely walks and 
drives around Hallam. “ Comparisons are 
odious,” I know, yet the parsonage is more 
home-like to me than this house, with Mrs. 
Benson and Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong, who are 
quite strangers to me, though they have boarded 
with mother for several years. If I succeed 
in obtaining the situation I wish, however, I 
shall doubtless learn to feel at home. Mother 
and Katie are here, my nearest and dearest, 
and very glad to have me once more. Katie 
is growing to be quite pretty, fair and delicate 
looking, very different from me ; no one would 
take us for sisters. She is almost fourteen. I 
shall commence giving her music lessons imme- 
diately. 

June 18th. I have seen Mr. Bradshaw, the 
principal of the school mother wrote about, 

(37) 


38 


CROSS ROADS. 


and shall probably make an agreement with 
him. I am not charmed with his looks or 
manner, but he has a very nice school ; and I 

wish so much to remain in B that trifles shall 

not easily discourage me. He is a small man 
with sandy hair, a little bald, pale grey eyes a 
little crossed, and from some conversation I 
overheard while waiting I fancy more than his 
eyes are crossed; but I will not anticipate 
trouble. 

June 19th. Mr. Bradshaw called to-day and 
we made a formal engagement for the next 
year. School closes in a week; so he will not 
want me until September. Mother is delighted 
and I am pleased with my success, if only my 
fears about his temper are unfounded. I am 
not apt to take a prejudice against anyone at 
first sight, but when I do have a presentiment 
it rarely proves incorrect, and I do not think I 
shall like Mr. Bradshaw. 

June 21st. A Sabbath in the city in June is 
very different from one out of town. I missed 
the green shady walk to church, with the sweet 
gardens, full of roses, on either hand. I walked 
with mother conscious of a feeling of interest 
I never had before ; for if I live here this will be 
my church and I must get acquainted. Nearly 
all are getting ready or going on their summer 
travels. The pastor preached his last sermon 


WIIAT NEXT? 


39 


before vacation. He is earnest and a good 
speaker, but there is no one I like quite so 
well as my good brother-in-law ; there is some- 
thing so tender, so earnest, so satisfying about 
him. 

June 24th. Mother was sick to-day and I 
undertook to help with the dinner. Mary 
would cook the meat and vegetables, and I 
agreed to make a rice pudding, thinking that a 
safe and simple dish for a beginner. I found 
some rice, but not enough to fill the bowl 
which I imagined necessary. Further search, 
however, revealed a small quantity in the 
pepper-box which I added to my stock and fin- 
ished the pudding according to directions. It 
looked very nice, but alas ! when put on the 
table it was so solid that a knife was needed to 
cut it, and it had the strangest “ pepperyest ” 
taste imaginable. Needless to say it was sent 
from the table untouched, to my great chagrin. 
When mother recovered, I told her of my fail- 
ure and asked for light on the subject. She 
asked how much rice I had taken. I showed 
her the bowl. “ My dear child, did you think 
you were to feed a regiment ? You need about 
six quarts of milk for that quantity. No won- 
der it was solid, and did you season it with 
pepper ? ” 

I confessed to the pepper-box transaction, 


40 


CROSS ROADS. 


adding that it was so little I did not think 
it would taste, and the bowl was not full. 
Mother laughed till the tears came, but I felt 
rather crest-fallen at the failure of my first 
attempt. However, one must learn from expe- 
rience. I shall know better next time. 

June 27th. We are having a spell of very 
hot weather with the thermometer up in the 
nineties every day. Mr. Benson came in at 
noon wiping the drops from his forehead while 
a small rivulet trickled down his beard. As 
for Mrs. Armstrong, life is a burden to her, and 
the effort to dress in the afternoon (her sever- 
est duty) is too much for her strength. I have 
found out one blessing in being obliged to work : 
it takes one’s thoughts from dwelling too much 
on minor troubles. You cannot well be ‘‘nerv- 
ous ” or fanciful if you must sweep or sew or 
teach ; and while taking interest in other things 
you are apt to forget self and some annoying 
trifles — if 96° Fahrenheit is a “trifle.” 

July 1st. The hot weather does not abate ; 
the sun shines all day with burning rays and it 
is simply impossible to “ keep cool.” I feel 
weak and languid, not disposed for writing or 
working. Oh, for a breath of the river below 
Hallam, or a ride through the woods with 
Robert Howland ! How strange it seems that 
we should have been thrown together so inti- 


WHAT NEXT? 


41 


mately for a short season and then suddenly 
separated ! I see and hear no more of him ; yet 
I have not forgotten him, for I have promised 
to remember him in my prayers. 

July 4th. All day long the smell of powder 
has been in the air and the noise of fire-crackers 
or the report of pistols. It is quiet now, the 
youngsters having expended their stock for 
this year, I hope. The last rocket has faded 
from the sky, the last Roman candle gone out 
against the stars. How quiet it seems after all 
the turmoil ! The deep blue sky seems so far 
off and the golden stars look down serenely 
upon the noisy city, now slowly settling to its 
nightly rest. There is something strangely 
solemn to me in the thought that in another 
hour thousands of souls will be wrapped in the 
silent unconsciousness of slumber through all 
these busy streets. “ Except the Lord keep the 
city, the watchman waketh but in vain.” Per- 
haps a large proportion of the number do not 
commit themselves to his care as they lie down 
to sleep, thoughtless, godless, prayerless. How 
much more blessed is he who can say, “ I laid 
me down and slept ; I awaked ; for the Lord 
sustained me.” 

July 6th. A heavy rain has fallen all day 
and the “ hot spell ” is broken. I feel refreshed 
and invigorated. I know of nothing more 


42 


CROSS ROADS. 


grateful than such a rain in the city in summer. 
The noise and heat together made mother quite 
sick yesterday; the rain has revived her as it 
does the flowers. 

August 1st. Nearly a month since I have 
written a line in my Journal. I have been too 
busy all day, too tired at night. Mother has 
been quite ill and I have had my hands full 
with nursing her and with housekeeping — both 
new occupations for me ; but every woman 
must learn them some time and my time is 
now. It was hard for poor mother to have to 
lie in bed all these long, hot July days, and on 
a city street, shut out from all pleasantness and 
freshness. Fortunately Mr. and Mrs. Arm- 
strong had gone to the sea-shore for a month 
which made it much easier for me. Mr. 
Benson was very kind; he brought mother 
fresh fruit and flowers, and begged me not 
to trouble myself about him but to “ take 
the housekeeping easy.” Two evenings, when 
mother was better, he took Katie and me 
to the Park, saying, “you must have a 
breath of fresh air after being shut up all day.” 
It was indeed grateful to me and I could not 
thank him enough; how kind he is! I shall 
always think kindly of old bachelors, for his 
sake. Mary was very good also and a great 
help to the inexperienced young housekeeper. 


WHAT NEXT? 


43 


“Just lave that to me, Miss Is’bel,” she would 
say in her kindly, Irish fashion. “ Don’t fash 
yoursel’ with the likes of that, sure a foine 
young lady like yez should be playing her music 
and not in the kitchen.” But the “ foine young 
lady ” had little time for music, and I have 
learned many useful lessons in the kitchen 
which may stand me in good stead hereafter. 

Mother is getting better now and I am very 
thankful ; she says “ I am thankful for my good, 
eldest daughter, what could I do without her? ” 
a remark which has gone far to reconcile me 
for this summer in the city, the first I have ever 
known. 

August 8th. To-day I left mother sitting up 
in her chair comfortably reading, and went to 
church, once more. It was poorly attended 
and a stranger preached ; but I heard a good 
sermon and felt strengthened. The subject was 
“ The Transfiguration,” but what specially 
touched me was his treatment of the apostles’ 
desire to remain in the mountain with Jesus 
after the vision was over. “How frequently 
do we wish the same thing after any special 
season of communion with our Saviour; but 
with us, as with Peter, when the vision is over 
we must go down into the world : our work is 
there. While Peter and his fellow disciples 
were enjoying the vision, the apostles below 


44 


CROSS ROADS. 


were vainly trying to cast out an evil spirit 
from a poor child. As soon as Jesus came 
down from the mountain the multitude met 
him ; his work was waiting for him, he was 
needed in the world, and at once he went to 
work. The effect of the glorious vision oh the 
minds of his disciples was to remain, but actual 
work was not to be set aside to enjoy a heavenly 
frame of mind.” I may not express it clearly, 
but that was the meaning. How often after 
communion season or other times, when I 
have felt specially near to God, I have felt 
vexed and pained to feel worldly things claim 
my attention as soon as I left the church door. I 
wanted to stay up in the mountain instead of 
going down to my work; but “daily duties 
performed for Christ’s sake send us further 
heavenward than holy frames of mind in 
delightful seclusion.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


HOME AND SCHOOL PEOBLEMS. 

Sept. 5th. School opened to-day, and I 
faced my forty odd pupils with a little sinking 
of heart which I made a great effort not to 
show. Mr. Bradshaw was quite amiable ; the 
other assistant, Miss Clara Morley, is a fair, 
sweet-looking girl, but evidently afraid to 
remark that two and two make four, if the 
principal is within hearing. I do not know 
how I shall manage, but I feel sure I shall not 
say that two and two are five to suit him. I 
fear the almanac for the coming year predicts 
storms; but I shall do my best to preserve 
fair weather. The girls are nice looking, bright 
girls of all ages from ten to twenty. I am not 
afraid of them. 

Sept. 11th. This is a specimen of the “ noise- 
less tenor of our way.” Scene, after school. 
Mr. B. examining French exercises, Miss Morley 
ditto, Miss Alison giving last charges to a 
delinquent music scholar. 

“ Miss Morley, how is it that Carrie White 
has no exercise to-day? No pupil is excused 

( 45 ) 


46 


CROSS ROADS. 


from writing one.” Miss Morley falters out 
that Carrie White was absent when the exercise 
was assigned. 

This excuse gives no satisfaction. “ Absent 
already! I should think three months was 
enough vacation for any one. Has she any 
excuse?” Miss Morley believes there was a 
death in the family. Carrie’s grandmother had 
died quite suddenly, without a due regard to 
the claims of exercises and vacations. This 
was hinted in an apologetic tone as if she 
were to blame somewhat for the old lady’s 
decease. 

“Grandmother!” ejaculates Mr. B., with a 
snort, as if he considered grandmothers a very 
unnecessary article in the community, though 
how he would have managed without one 
history does not determine. Silence ensues 
during which Miss A. retires. 

Sept. 13th. Sometimes it is a pupil who 
is called upon sharply. For instance : “Miss 
Wilmot, if you design to take up Algebra this 
term I would advise you to devote your atten- 
tion to the multiplication table for a week or 
so.” This to a nervous girl who has just 
asserted that “ nine sevens are fifty-four, startled 
out of her usual correctness by Mr. B.’-s sharp 
tones and manner. Exit Miss Wilmot in 
tears. 


HOME AND SCHOOL PROBLEMS. 47 

So it goes on ; some clays are a little worse 
than usual, but this is a fair sample. I cannot 
imagine why people choose to make themselves 
so intensely disagreeable. I should think he 
would lose his scholars ; but his school has a 
good reputation and he is really a good 
teacher. 

“ Why do you let him talk so to you ? ” I 
said to Clara Morley. “ You were not to blame 
for that stupid child’s absence, or that girl’s 
mistake. Why didn’t you say so ? ” 

“ Say so ! ” exclaimed Clara, surprise drying 
her tears. “ He frightens me so, I can’t say a 
word. Besides, he can’t bear to be answered 
back.” 

“ And I can’t bear to be scolded, and I think 
my ‘ can’ts ’ are as good as his. I don’t intend 
to allow him to talk to me in that style I 
assure you.” 

“ How will you help it ? ” asked Clara, with 
wide-open e} 7 es. 

“I do not know exactly ; but when the time 
comes I think I shall see the way.” And I will 
too. If he once begins I cannot stop him ; so I 
shall nip it in the bud. He will find me made 
of tougher stuff than his other assistant. 

Sept. 17th. I had my first skirmish to-day, 
and I do not know which was the most astom 


48 


CROSS ROADS. 


ished, Clara or Mr. Bradshaw, at the way in 
which it was conducted. 

“The answers of these girls are something 
surprising! Miss Alison, do you know that 
Ada Lascelles has not an idea of the date of 
the foundation of the Roman Empire ? She 
said it was founded by Hannibal in 702, and 
couldn’t tell whether it was A. D. or B. C.” 
(This as if I were to blame for Ada’s stupid- 
ity.) 

“It would surprise me to hear that Ada had 
an idea about anything,” I replied coolly, “ I 
am delighted to hear that she knew there was 
such a man as Hannibal. It is more than I 
expected of her.” Mr. B. glared at me, but 
was so taken by surprise at my audacity that 
he could not proceed in the course he had 
intended. By thus ranging myself on his side, 
and becoming complainer instead of com- 
plained of, I made it rather difficult for him to 
growl at me with his usual amiability. 

The Apostle Paul says, “ If it be possible, as 
much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all 
men,” thereby showing that even Paul had 
some people in his mind with whom it was dif- 
ficult to live peaceably. I think he must have 
encountered somebody like Mr. B. 

Oct. 8th. This is a rarely beautiful day, even 
for this beautiful month. Even the city is glo- 


HOME AND SCHOOL PROBLEMS. 49 

rifled by this blue sky and golden haze. The 
red leaves fall in the streets and the children 
tread them under foot to hear the crisp, rust- 
ling sound. How beautiful it must be at Hal- 
lam ! Earth is indeed fair, so very fair on such 
a day as this, what can Heaven show us fairer ? 
But these falling leaves speak of decay and 
death. Lovely as the world is there is a strain 
of sadness, for we know that soon all this 
beauty will be shrouded out of sight under gray 
skies and winter snows. So do bright lives 
pass away, dear ones walk no more with us, 
“We all do fade as a leaf.” 

Nov. 2nd. It is growing cold ; winter is at 
hand ; the beautiful leaves are gone now, only 
a few dry, brown ones yet linger here and 
there. The mornings are chilly, fires are in 
demand, and the question of winter coal 
assumes a proportion for me such as I have 
never before realized. Mother has been at 
unusual expense with her sickness and other 
things ; my first quarter’s salary is not due for 
a month yet, and we need many things which 
we really cannot get. I feel now as I never 
did before how hard it is to be poor ; and gen- 
teel poverty, where you must keep up a respect- 
able appearance, is the worst. I really cannot 
go to school barefoot (the girls might be sur- 
prised), but my shoes are very shabby; they 

4 


50 


CROSS ROADS. 


have been patched already but will have to do 
for a while yet. We can do without new 
clothes, for a while, but we must keep up fires 
and we have come to our last ton of coal. 
Mother has sent Mary away, and that means 
hard work for her, and for me too when I can 
help her ; but we must do something to bring 
the two ends nearer together. 

Nov. 15th. Mary has gone and mother looks 
pale and tired in consequence, though she tries 
not to show it. Mrs. Armstrong is as exact- 
ing and incapable as ever. Mr. Bradshaw is 
more than usually disagreeable ; some days I 
think I really cannot stand him much longer, 
but I come home and find it so blue here also 
that I see I must put up with his temper for 
the sake of his dollars. It is a sad state of 
affairs and I am blue enough myself. If I 
could get some work to do out of school hours ! 
But all my spare time now is taken up with 
house-work, or “ making old clothes look as 
well as new.” I wish they did. Mother 
smiles and says, “ Have faith, my child,” but, 
if I have any, it is like the grain of mustard 
seed just now. 

“ Nov. 16th. Mr. B. complained to-day be- 
cause I sent Fanny Jones to get a glass of 
water for me during recitations, thus “ disturb- 
ing the school,” etc. I defended myself be- 


HOME AND SCHOOL PROBLEMS. 


51 


cause I had a sore throat and needed the water. 
I spoke warmly I know, but as he saw I meant 
fight he walked bearishly away. I felt just 
half sick enough to let that trouble me, and on 
coming home I found mother, pale and tired, 
clearing up the dinner ; and Mrs. Armstrong 
declaring she felt very ill and must have Dr. 
Willis called in directly ; so I had a long walk 
through the snow after him in my old shoes 
which did not improve my cold. Altogether I 
was as blue and cross and unamiable as any one 
might desire to see. 

Nov. 17th. Mother says she must order coal 
to-morrow — one ton at least ; she can find some 
way to pay for it and perhaps by the time that 
is gone she can see her way more clearly. I 
can not see what she hopes for ; to me “ the 
thing that is, is that which shall be,” but mother 
has more trust. “ You will learn by experience 
Isabel,” she says. “ I have always found a 
way opened for me, often where I least expected 
it. ‘ I have been young, and now am old ; yet 
have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his 
seed begging bread.’ ” 

Nov. 24th. Thanksgiving day. I had not 
much heart to give thanks ; went to church but 
felt dull and unhappy ; knew I was wicked to 
feel so, but somehow could not seem to get 
right. 


52 


CROSS ROADS. 


Nov. 27th. Mother was right after all ; she 
always is. The way has come. Yesterday even- 
ing I was feeling rather more discouraged than 
usual as I sat trying to make a new dress for 
Katie out of one of my old ones, when there 
was a ring at the bell. I answered it and 
found Mr. Russell, the leader of our church 
choir. He had never called on us before and I 
was rather surprised at seeing him. He said at 
once, “ Do not disturb your mother if she is 
busy, Miss Alison, it is you I came to see 
principally.” 

I sat down and he continued, “ You may 
have heard that we are going to lose our chief 
lady singer, Miss Carson.” 

I had not heard it, and before I could think 
why he should inform me of the fact he re- 
sumed, “I have noticed you singing in church 
and the weekly meetings and have often thought 
I would like to have your voice in the choir. 
If you are willing to come and take Miss Car- 
son’s place we shall be glad to have you and will 
give you the same that she' received— one 
hundred and fifty dollars. What do you say 
to it, Miss Alison? Will you come?” 

I was so taken by surprise that I could hardly 
find words to answer at first, but when I did it 
was to accept his offer as frankly as it was 
made. Strange ! I never thought of singing in a 


HOME AND SCHOOL PKOBLEMS. 53 

choir before, for although friends have flattered 
me about my singing, I never thought strangers 
would set any money value on it. A hundred 
and fifty dollars, and only for singing on Sun- 
day ! I feel wonderfully lifted up by it and 
ready to rush into any kind of extravagance. I 
invested in a new pair of shoes forthwith as a 
sort of an escape valve. I have been very 
stingy of late. I believe I caught my last cold 
by walking to school one morning in the snow 
because I would not spend five cents for a car 
ticket. I won’t dare to do that again ; I must 
take care of my throat if I expect to .sing. 

Mr. Russell did not know what an angel of 
light he was to our dwelling — light and heat 
too, for we shall get our coal now. Mr. C. 
advised mother to lay in her supply at once as 
the price was going up steadily ; now she shall 
do it. Mother said, “ Commit thy way unto the 
Lord ; trust also in him ; and he shall bring it 
to pass.” I hope I shall trust God better after 
this experience. 

Dec. 24th. Holiday for one week. I breathe 
freer as I think I shall not see Mr. Bradshaw 
for seven days, nor hear his amiable voice. I 
fear I am learning to be both sarcastic and 
disagreeable under his training, but I can not 
help it. If by any mistake I relapse .into amia- 
bility he is certain to make some gruff speech 


54 


CROSS ROADS. 


that at once sends all the good angels flying 
out from the door of my heart with wonderful 
rapidity. To do him justice I think he dis- 
likes me quite as much as I do him, and the 
reason is that he cannot scold me as easily as he 
does most folks. I don’t feel inclined to shed 
many tears over the loss of his regard, as long 
as this fact holds good. 

One or two of the girls brought me little 
presents very shyly. “ Mr. Bradshaw can’t 
bear Christmas presents,” said Lucy Wilmot, 
smiling, as she presented hers. I dare say; no 
one is very anxious to lavish such tokens on 
him. Clara Morley received quite a number ; 
the girls are very fond of her. She is a 
sweet, amiable girl. I wonder how she has 
stood it so long ; this is her third year. Ido 
not think I shall sta} r so long. I have a present- 
iment that there will be a grand explosion some 
day, and I shall be blown so high I shall never 
be able to find my place again. I shall do some- 
thing rash I am certain. 

Money promised is not money in hand, but I 
was determined Christmas should not pass 
without some token for mother and Katie, slight 
as it must be. When the time came it turned 
out a very useful token for when friends actually 
need things, it is to better give them, than a 
pretty trifle ; so I went out one day very un- 


HOME AND SCHOOL PROBLEMS. 


55 


romantically and came home with a pair of 
shoes for mother and a hat for Katie. They 
were both well pleased however and said it was 
“ just what they wanted.” I rather suspected 
the fact. 


CHAPTER V. 


TRIALS OF TEMPER. 

Jan. 18th. I began the last year at Mrs. War- 
ing’s, and although comfortable and free from 
anxiety I remember that I grumbled because I 
was lonely and away from home and friends. 
Now I am with those I love and still find occa- 
sion for complaining ; is it that I am ungrate- 
ful and discontented ? It looks so, I confess. I 
see that one must expect trials of some kind in 
every condition of life : when one is removed 
another comes, and if the cross is changed I do 
not see that one is lighter than the other ; only 
it is different, so we can bear it better for a 
while. 


“ One by one thy trials shall meet thee, 

Do not fear an armed band ; 

Some will fade as others greet thee, 

Shadows passing through the land.” 

God has been very good to me this year. I 
have not wanted. He has always provided. 
May I trust him in the future, remembering his 
goodness in the past. I ought to be much bet- 
ter this year than last. 

( 56 ) 


TRIALS OF TEMPER. 


57 


“ Come let us anew our journey pursue, 

Roll round with the year, and never stand still till the 
Master appear. 

Oh ! that each in the day of his coming may say : 

‘ I have fought my way through, I have finished the work 
thou didst give me to do.’ 

Oh ! that each from his Lord may receive the glad word, 
Well and faithfully done. Euter into my joy, and sit 
down on my throne.’ ’ 

Jan. 15th. How furiously the snow did 
come down this morning ! It blocked all the 
rails so that it was impossible to get a car, and 
I was obliged to fight my way to school against 
the opposing elements. I was wet, tired and 
out of breath by the time I got there and 
scholars were few. Sometimes I enjoy a battle 
with the elements, it rouses and inspirits one ; 
but to-day I felt tired of fighting and wanted 
some one to take care of me and to rest ; a very 
useless feeling as I know ; Mr. B. had no idea 
of taking care of any one but himself, and did 
not believe in rest for any one, himself in- 
cluded. Clara Morley was so wet that I beg- 
ged her to go home and let me attend to her 
scholars ; there were so few I could easily do it, 
but Clara would not ask Mr. B. 

“ I will ask him myself then,” I said ; and I 
did it. He opened his eyes in astonishment. 
“ Is Miss Morley indisposed ? Why does she 
not speak for herself?” he asked, coldly. 


58 


CROSS ROADS. 


“ If she is not indisposed she soon will be if 
she stays longer in those wet clothes,” I said, 
choosing to ignore the last part of his speech. 
“ I can easily take care of all the girls to- 
day, if you will allow me, and save her a bad 
cold if nothing worse.” 

“ You can do as you please,” he said shortly, 
turning away. I was too glad of the permis- 
sion, to quarrel at the way it was given and the 
rest of the day was very peaceful. 

Jan. 28th. My choir practice goes on re- 
gularly every Saturday evening. Mother does 
not like me to go by myself, so Katie some- 
times goes with me; but often the nights are 
cold and stormy and it does not seem worth 
while for two of us to be exposed, so now I go 
alone. I am not afraid, and I do not invite at- 
tention, being neither beautiful nor obtrusive, 
and no one has ever molested me. Sometimes 
Mr. Russell walks home with me ; he lives not 
far away. He has repeated to me many com- 
pliments on my singing, which, of course, grat- 
ifies my vanity, yet I think the substantial part 
of the bargain pleases me best. We have got 
a young girl to help mother in the kitchen and 
relieve her of the heavy work. She is not as good 
as Mary but is cheaper and is much better than 
no one : on the whole affairs look brighter. 

Feb. 9th. Mr. Russell came home with 


TRIALS OF TEMPER. 


59 


me to-night and we had quite a discussion 
arising from something he said about a “ pro- 
fessor of religion.” It seems he is not one, 
though a moral man and much interested in 
church work, music, etc. Now if there is one 
thing I dislike more than a “pious” person it 
is a “ professor ” ; there is something so exclu- 
sive and sanctimonious in the phrase. I said 
quietly, “ A professor of what — music ? ” 

“No, you know what I mean, a religeuse as 
the French have it, a church-member, “ some- 
thing better than us common folks you know.” 

“ I make no profession of being better than 
my neighbors,” I said. “ I wish I were as good as 
many, but I confess that I need something more 
than my own merits to gain entrance to heaven. 
I have confessed that I need a Saviour, that I 
cannot do right of myself : this is no profession 
of being better than others, but rather the re- 
verse.” 

“But I always thought that when people 
‘ got religion,’ as they say, they considered them- 
selves lifted up on a platform far above the heads 
of the poor sinners around them.” 

“ I do not believe in ‘ getting religion’, in the 
sense you mean. We may accept Christ as our 
Saviour in an instant of time ; but Christian 
character is the growth of years I think ; day 


60 


CROSS ROADS. 


by day a stone is added to the temple of our 
lives.” 

We were nearly home now and little more 
was said, but in thinking it over I can see that 
this idea is one very prevalent among out- 
siders, and this is the reason I dislike the word 
“ professor ” ; confessor would be better. A 
professor of music, languages, etc., is one who 
is understood to have mastered the science and 
is ready to teach others ; he does stand on a 
“platform” too high for a follower of the 
lowly Jesus. No one makes such a profession 
of mastery in religion, and yet that is what the 
world understands and so criticises us because 
we can not come up to the perfect standard. 
Ah, how very far we fall below it ! 

March 3rd. The first month of spring by 
the almanac, but little like it in reality ; yet the 
hope comes that winter is nearly over and one 
may soon begin to look for softer skies and 
balmy air. It has been a hard winter to me in 
many ways. I will not write down all its petty 
trials and discomforts, yet I feel them none the 
less keenly. This constant question of “ What 
can we do without ? ” and “ How can we get 
what we must have,” is very wearing to mind 
and heart, and caustic remarks or downright 
injustice and ill humor are no sweeteners to a 
day ’s toil. I suppose I ought to learn patience 


TRIALS OF TEMPER. 


61 


and meekness under it, but I doubt if I do. 
My temper (never too sweet) does not improve 
under this year’s discipline ; for the only way 
I can keep Mr. Bradshaw from actually scold- 
ing me is by being so polite and somehow 
superior that he does not like to risk an 
encounter. Do I think that these trials will 
vanish with warmer weather? No, but I feel 
as if I should have more strength to stand 
them ; yet that ought not to be, for have I not 
at all times a better Strength ? Ah, me ! I 
fear my temple goes up very slowly. 

April 15th. Spring at last, but how different 
from last year ! Then I was at the parsonage 
with Allan and Margaret, riding in the beau- 
tiful country with Robert Howland, or rambling 
in the woods ; now I am in the city, teaching 
all day, cross and tired and having little recrea- 
tion at night. 

April 24th. Mr. Bradshaw and I have had 
an encounter at last and both sides are defeated ; 
but my loss will be the heaviest. It began 
about such a little thing. I unfortunately left 
the key of my desk in my old pocket in chang- 
ing to a spring dress and when I reached the 
school could not get at any of my books. I 
sent Lucy Wilmot home after the key, charg- 
ing her to be as quick as possible ; but mother 
had gone out on an errand and Lucy had to 


62 


CROSS ROADS. 


wait, and so lost ten minutes of her history 
class with Mr. Bradshaw ; whereupon he turned 
her to the foot of the class with a loss of marks 
for the day. When I discovered the state of 
the case I went to Mr. B. and pocketing my 
pride acknowledged it to be all my fault and 
begged him to forgive Lucy. 

“ She had no permission to go,” he said 
stiffly, “ she disobeyed the rules and I shall not 
excuse her.” 

“ But I sent her, Mr. Bradshaw ; she had no 
choice, and I thought it better for her to lose a 
few minutes if need be, than for the whole 
class to be inconvenienced for the day.” 

“ She should not have gone without asking 
me.” 

“ Mr. Bradshaw, do }^ou mean that I should 
have sent to you to ask permission to send a 
scholar on a necessary errand ? ” I asked, hotty, 
for I saw he meant to punish me through Lucy. 

“ Exactly, I do not allow any one to send a 
scholar away from a recitation without my per- 
mission. Remember that hereafter.” 

“But Mr. Bradshaw, if I am to have no 
liberty of action, even in so simple an affair as 
this, what authority can I expect to have over 
my scholars ? How can I keep their respect if 
I am to be treated as a child ? ” 

So it began; but then Mr. B. took occasion to 


TRIALS OF TEMPER. 


63 


expound such a series of rules and regulations 
that I revolted on the spot. 

“ I can never promise to act thus ; it would be 
useless to try to teach so hampered by rules 
and restrictions: the scholars would have no 
respect for me.” 

Whereupon he replied that he was the 
principal of the school and he expected his 
rules to be obeyed, which of course sounds 
reasonable if the rules are not; and as we 
could not agree our engagement was broken, 
though which of us first gave notice I cannot 
determine. However, as there are only about 
six weeks of the school year left, and it would 
be inconvenient for either of us to change, we 
have agreed to maintain an armed neutrality to 
the end of the term ; at least so I interpret it. 

May 5th. One reads sometimes of “ the calm 
before a storm.” I am now experiencing the 
“ calm after a storm.” Mr. Bradshaw manifests 
his disapproval of me by a dignified silence, 
never addressing me if he can prevent it. I 
return it in kind, and the situation is not with- 
out its advantages. Clara Morley regrets that 
I am not to be here next year, but does not pro- 
pose any change for herself. As for me I never 
expected anything better and am only glad that 
the explosion was postponed until so late in the 


64 


CROSS ROADS. 


the term. I can stand his letting me alone for 
six weeks with great fortitude. 

May 19th. I do love the spring time. 
Yesterday was Saturday and I got Clara Mor- 
ley, Katie and two or three of the school-girls 
and we went out of town and had a regular 
ramble in the woods and fields. It was too late 
for arbutus, but we found quantities of delicate 
spring beauties and anemones, and I got a patch 
of the dear little blue “ Quaker ladies ” for 
mother, her favorites. We came home well 
tired and hungry for supper, after which I had 
to hurry off to choir practise. 

June 18th. My birthday — I am twenty 
years old. That used to sound old to me, but 
now I feel just as I did a year ago. Still I 
begin to find the years are shorter than they 
used to be, and that is a sign of age. Mother 
made a cake and Katie had made a pretty cover 
for my washstand, so I was not forgotten. 

June 16th. School closed to-day. The girls 
all know I am not coming back, but few under- 
stand the reason. They are accustomed to a 
change of teachers, at least those are, who come 
several terms themselves. They all said they 
were sorry, but they will soon forget me. Clara 
wept, Mr. Bradshaw gave me a dignified fare- 
well and the tip of his fingers to squeeze — if I 
felt like squeezing, which I did not. 


CHAPTER VI. 


WORKING AND WAITING. 

July 7th. Mrs. Armstrong asked to-day- 
why I did not try to get music scholars, and 
not go into a school again. It was a brilliant 
idea for her to conceive and one worth acting 
upon I thought. I am willing to try anything. 
I do not care how hard I work if I can only do 
something. There are so many ladies in our 
church who have daughters; they know me 
and have spoken highly of my playing and 
singing. I should think I might succeed. 

July 13th. For nearly a week I have tried 
day after day to get music scholars and at its 
close I have just one, with a vague promise of 
two more after a while. I went to Mrs. Allen 
first ; she has three daughters and is a pleasant, 
friendly woman. She “ was very sorry indeed, 
would like to help me, but Mattie and Annie 
had been taking lessons from Prof. Walewski 
for some time and Helen was always teasing to 
go to him also. She admired my ‘ style,’ was 
sure I would succeed, had I been to Mrs. 

5 (65) 


66 


CROSS ROADS. 


Bernard yet? She was going to change her 
girls’ teacher, I had better see her.” 

I went to Mrs. Bernard next and had it over 
again. “ Yes, very true, she was going to 
change but she liked a gentleman teacher, 
thought he gave more style, etc. In fact Mrs. 
Allen had recommended her to Prof. Walewski, 
and Carrie and Laura were engaged to him for 
the next quarter. She was sorry, hoped I 
would succeed,” etc. I went next, with a 
rather heavier heart, to Mrs. Elwood. She has 
one little girl. 

“ Indeed Nina was kept so busy at school, she 
had hardly any time for music, she had thought 
of giving it up altogether during vacation. It 
was really terrible the way children were made 
to study now-a-days.” So I heard a great deal 
about Nina and her school and her mamma’s 
anxieties for her, while my little plan was over- 
looked entirely. After some time I got away 
and after a long walk tried Mrs. Smith. She 
has several daughters but none of them take 
music lessons, though the Smiths are well off. 
She “ thought it was a great waste of time, this 
thrummin’ and bangin’ on a piano, but Amelia 
was always bothering to learn to play. She 
did not care for it herself, only Smith, he was 
great for music and sin gin’ and she ’spected 
’Melia would get round him some day; she 


WORKING AND WAITING. 67 

always did. But when that day did come she 
was goin’ to have her say and it should be for 
Prof. Walloosky, or whatever his name was. 
It sounded more stylish.” 

I bade Mrs. Smith good-day fervently wish- 
ing that my name was Mad. Fitchpinsky or 
something equally “stylish,” for I saw no 
chance of success as it was. It was growing 
late by this time and I was too discouraged to 
try again that day ; so I walked slowly home- 
ward and tried to make mother and Katie 
laugh over 'my adventures. It is really no 
laughing matter, however. 

So it went on every day for nearly a week. 
I encountered “ Prof. Walewski ” until I began 
to entertain quite a dislike to the worthy, good- 
natured gentleman. Every one “ hoped I 
would succeed ” but had excellent reasons for 
giving me nothing but good wishes to help. I 
thought of the verse in the Bible, “ Depart in 
peace, be ye warmed and filled” — and could 
not help applying it in several places. Perhaps 
it was too much to expect that Christian kind- 
ness, benevolence or self-denial should gain the 
victory over 4 style ’ and a foreign professor. 
So that scheme has failed. I am disappointed, 
discouraged, distrustful, for I felt sure some 
of these ladies would help me, even if they did 
give up a little show and a stylish name to do 


68 


CROSS ROADS. 


it— but I did not know. Oh! they are “very 
much interested” in me, “hope I will succeed,” 
speak very kindly and graciously when we 
meet at the church door. There is very polite 
society in our church. “ Depart in peace,” etc. 

I have advertised for a situation but my 
only answer was from a school where they re* 
quired an Episcopalian teacher. I wrote to 
Mrs. Beach but she is on the eve of a visit to 
Europe and could tell me nothing. Still I 
remember last winter and n^ unexpected call 
to the choir, and take heart. Help came then 
whence I least looked for it and may again. 
Mother said then, “I have been young, and 
now am old ; yet have I not seen the right- 
eous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.” 

July 17th. Mr. Adams preached a sermon 
to “ Young women” to-night. I went hoping 
to hear something for myself, but came away 
disappointed, fed with an empty spoon. He 
took for granted that every woman was or 
would be married, have a home, a sphere, etc., 
and on this broad position enlarged upon 
“ woman’s duty in her home, training her chil- 
dren, her influence by the fireside, her gentle- 
ness, unobtrusive virtues,” and all that, and 
finished up with an argument against “ Women’s 
Rights.” “ Her life was in the domestic circle, 
her world was in her home, not in the rough 


WORKING AND WAITING. 


69 


arena of the world’s conflict,” etc., etc. It did 
not do me any good. It is very well to tell a 
woman to “ stay by her fireside, train her chil- 
dren,” etc ; but suppose she has not any chil- 
dren to train and don’t expect to have any ; 
and if she stays at home watching her fireside 
until the fire goes out — what then ? And sup- 
pose there won’t be any more wood for the fire 
until she earns it, will she get it by “ exerting 
her gentle influence in the home circle ? ” I 
believe most people thought it was an “ excellent 
sermon.” I know the married ladies did, but 
ought not Mr. Adams to have known that some 
of his listeners had not such a calm, peaceful 
lot laid out for them, and could he not have 
spared one thought for them ? It is hard 
enough for a girl to fight the world without 
being told all the time that she would be so 
much more lovely and attractive if she would 
stay at home and mind the fires and the prob- 
lematical babies. I said something of this kind 
to Mr. Russell and he laughed at me and said 
I was for “Women’s Rights.” That’s always 
the way with men ! 

July 20th. Our Communion Sunday. I have 
been feeling so wicked and bitter lately that I 
hardly dared to go yesterday. I have doubted 
God, blamed my fellows, thought I had the 
hardest lot in the world and trusted so little in 


70 


CROSS ROADS. 


God’s promises ; — and yet Christ died for me. 
It all came home to me yesterday and I felt 
humbled and unworthy enough ; yet Jesus gave 
the feast to all his disciples, although he knew 
that in the same night they would all forsake him 
and flee ; although he told Peter he would 
deny him thrice he did not reject him. He 
knew they were weak and sinful, but he did not 
send them away. And so I too dared to come. 
“This do in remembrance of me.” “ If ye love 
me, keep my commandments.” Ah ! shall I 
forget him so soon again ? 

“ Mrs. Allen’s little Helen has been very sick 
and to-day the notice was read for her funeral. 
As I thought of the real sharp grief that had 
fallen on that household I was more ashamed 
still of my selfishness and rebellion. All my 
loved ones are well and my home is not unhappy. 
For the future — “ The Lord will provide.” 

Aug. 21st. I have not done anything to- 
ward obtaining another situation. I cannot see 
anything to do. I must wait; let me do it 
“patiently.” Soon it will be September and 
there will be openings and I may slip into one. 
I do not expect now to be able to stay at home. 
I have quite made up my mind to go away 
again, and make no plans for next fall or winter. 
I shall probably not spend them in B. What 
new scenes lie before me, what new characters 


WORKING AND WAITING. 


71 


will interest me ? I cannot tell, at least I hope 
I may find some who will be friends. 

The worst thing is going away from mother 
and Katie again. It seems that cannot be 
helped. Mother feels badly about it— so do I. 


CHAPTER VII. 


ALMOST AN ACCIDENT. 

Friday, Aug. 24th. There is an advertise- 
ment in the paper to-day for a teacher in music 
and other branches out at Riverside. It is 
only six miles away — if I could get it ! I shall 
go out at once and apply, yet have little hope 
of obtaining the place — doubtless it will all be 
settled beforehand ; some one else will have 
gained it or some other obstacle arise. I have 
no heart to hope any more, still I will make the 
effort. I could come home over Sunday and so 
keep my place in the choir and still be near 
mother : but it seems too good to be true — for 
me. 

Aug. 27th. How strangely things turn out in 
this world ! When I made that entry in my jour- 
nal, and even when I was in the cars speeding 
toward Riverside I had no idea anything would 
come of it. Yet what an adventure I have had. 
And the end is. not yet. Let me put it all down 
from the beginning. I stepped out on the 
platform at Riverside about three o’clock, and 
after some inquiry at the station started for the 

( 72 ) 


ALMOST AN ACCIDENT. 


73 


school where the committee met. As it is a 
large building standing quite high, I had no 
difficulty in finding it, and entered a room 
where sat four gentlemen and as many ladies. 
One of the latter was old and sharp looking 
and scanned me with no favorable eye, seeing 
in me another rival. We presented our several 
credentials, had our separate audiences, replied 
to such questions as the chairman saw fit to 
ask and then went our several ways, assured 
that the committee would inform us of their 
decision in a few days ; that is, the one selected 
would know. I went away thinking I had done 
what I could, but scarcely expecting ever to 
hear from them again. There was nearly an 
hour before the next train would leave, and as 
it was a beautiful day I walked on beyond the 
town, thinking a pleasant stroll might repay me 
for loss of time. As I wandered idly along en- 
joying the beauty of the day and spot I heard 
the sound of an approaching train and walked 
to the edge of the bank to see it pass. The 
railroad was a single track, and just below me 
was a deep cut with a high, steep embankment. 
I had just time to take this in at a glance, when 
I heard a cry and saw a young girl standing in 
that narrow pass and making desperate efforts 
to climb the bank on which I stood. Evidently 
she had been walking down the track and was 


74 


CROSS ROADS. 


overtaken by the cars before she could get out 
of that narrow gorge. There might have been 
room for her to stand at the side and let the 
train pass but it was a risk one would not 
choose to run on a “ might have been.” As 
she saw me she screamed for help and reached 
out her hand. I saw but one way to help her, 
and in far less time than it has taken to write 
this I did it. Creeping down the bank as cau- 
tiously as possible I braced my foot against a 
stone and clinging with one hand to a slight 
bush, I grasped the girl’s hand with the other 
and drew her partly up the bank. The next 
moment the train rushed past us and we were 
safe ! It was well that we had no longer trial, 
for the girl’s weight was no light one, the bush 
gave way under my desperate grasp and we 
both fell to the ground, a moment after. We 
were too much frightened at our narrow escape 
to speak at first, and when she recovered her- 
self enough to pour out her incoherent thanks 
I found I had sprained my ankle and could 
hardly stand. 

“ Come home with me and have it attended 
to,” said the young lady, earnestly. “ It is 
only a little way. I thought I Tad time to 
get there before the train was due.” 

I yielded, as I could not do otherwise. It was 
indeed ‘ only a little way,’ yet I could scarcely 


ALMOST AN ACCIDENT. 


75 


walk that distance, supported by her, so sharp 
was the pain at each step. We were soon out 
of the cut, when a short turn to the right 
brought us to the gate of a large house, stand- 
ing back in a garden. I saw a gentleman come 
forward, but the next moment everything grew 
dark before me. I heard an exclamation of 
alarm and surprise and felt myself caught as I 
fell forward. I suppose I fainted for the first 
time in my life. When I opened my eyes I 
was lying on a sofa, some one was bathing my 
forehead with cologne and the young lady was 
removing my shoe. 

Some one said, “ O, Bessie ! Bessie ! What 
an escape ! What were you thinking of ? ” He 
then examined my foot and I winced. 

I tried to sit up but they begged me to lie 
still. “ I am afraid your ankle is badly hurt,” 
said the gentleman (and what a pleasant voice 
he had !). “I am a physician and will do what 
I can for you if you will allow me. We had 
better bind it up now to prevent further swell- 
ing.” 

So Bessie brought bandages and the doctor 
bound my foot up tightly, but I could not get 
my shoe on and felt dismayed at the prospect 
of reaching home again. 

“ What more can we do for you ? ” he asked, 
when that operation was completed. “ I do not 


76 


CROSS ROADS. 


know liow to thank you for your courage and 
presence of mind. You have risked your own life 
to save this mad girl.” He glanced at Bessie 
as he spoke, and I saw his face change at the 
thought of her danger. 

Just then Bessie’s mother came in and the 
story had to be told again, which Bessie did 
nervously, half crying as she spoke. Her 
mother grew very pale and said like the doctor 
“ O, Bessie, Bessie ! ” but took her in her arms 
and held her closely for a moment ; then she 
came to the sofa and kissed me tenderly. 
They all seemed to think they could not make 
enough of me. For my part I had little to 
say ; I had not stopped to think, had only done 
the one thing possible and did not feel that I 
merited all this attention. 

After the excitement had subsided and we 
were quietly talking, sundry introductions and 
explanations were in order. 

I found that my venturesome young lady was 
called Bessie Chilton and the doctor was her 
elder brother Horace". Mrs. Chilton insisted on 
my staying with them over night, saying that 
Horace would go in and explain all to my 
mother ; but as I much preferred getting home, 
if possible, they finally agreed, Horace saying 
that his father had the carriage but when it 
came back he would drive Miss Alison home, 


ALMOST AN ACCIDENT. 


77 


if she must go. Tea was then served, Bessie 
bringing mine to the sofa and waiting on me 
with a pretty mixture of contrition and affec- 
tion. Then the father came in and the story 
had to be told again, and who should he be but 
the chairman of the school committee ! 

He recognized me at once and Bessie was 
delighted. 

“ Now papa, yon know what you can do for 
her,” she said, in high glee. “ She shall have the 
school and come here to live, and we shall be 
great friends. Isn’t it splendid? Just like a 
story book! How lucky I walked down the 
track.” 

“ My daughter, never in your life do such a 
thing again. I shudder to think of it,” and he 
drew her closely to his side. How they all seem 
to love her. 

“ I would not try it again, Bessie,” said her 
brother, gravely. “ You must not expect often 
to find a young lady with the courage and pres- 
ence of mind of Miss Alison, to say nothing of 
the risk she ran herself to save you.” 

“ I know it, I never can thank her enough,” 
said Bessie, penitently, “ but the clock was slow 
or I should not have attempted that short cut. 
However, it all turns out beautifully now — 
except that poor ankle — and she shall have the 


78 


CROSS ROADS. 


school and we will make it up to her the best 
we know how.” 

I felt embarrassed at this way of taking it 
for granted that a sprained ankle was the best 
qualification for a teacher, but the entrance of 
a little girl, the youngest daughter, May, turned 
the conversation. 

It was quite dusk now and I knew mother 
would be getting anxious, so I asked to be 
taken home. The doctor (by the way they are 
both doctors, father and son), helped me out to 
the carriage and settled me as comfortably as 
possible. 

It was a beautiful night, the moon rose as the 
sun set, so it did not get dark and but for the 
dull pain in my ankle I enjoyed the ride very 
much. I have few such pleasures now-a-days. 
One thing I did say on the road. 

“ I hope your father will not imagine that I 
expect anything from him that would not other- 
wise be done ; your sister ” 

“ Do not distress yourself on that score,” he 
said kindly, finishing my hesitating sentence. 
“ I understand your feeling and you may be 
sure you will not be misunderstood. We can- 
not think of you but with gratitude. Bessie is 
thoughtless and speaks at random, but you 
need not fear. All will be right.” 

It was after eight when we drove up 


ALMOST AN ACCIDENT. 


79 


to the door and found mother, Katie and Mr. 
Benson all on the steps in great anxiety about 
me, which was not much dispelled when I ap- 
peared with my strange escort and had to be 
assisted into the house. Dr. Chilton stayed a 
few moments to pay mother some very pretty 
compliments on my account and leave some di- 
rections in regard to my ankle, then he went 
away saying he would call again to-morrow to 
see how I was, so I suppose he considers me his 
patient. It is a good thing, if I must fall, that 
it was into a doctor’s arms. 

Mother thinks, like Bessie, that I shall get 
the school and it will all turn out beautifully, 
except my foot ; and I do not think that is seri- 
ous. She was much pleased with the young 
doctor’s appearance and manners. How thank- 
ful I am to the Providence that led me to walk 
down the bank and the presence of mind that 
enabled me to save Bessie. However it turns out 
about the school— and that is not entirely at 
Dr. Chilton’s disposal — I shall always be grate- 
ful. What little things, apparently, lead to 
great results ! If I had walked in another di- 
rection, if the bush had given way a moment 
sooner, if — Ah ! God has no “ ifs ” in his 
government. He sees the end from the begin- 
ning and even the turning of a walk, the grow- 
ing of a bush are in his hands. Courage then, 


80 


CROSS ROADS. 


faint heart. He leadeth thee by a way thou 
knowest not, and dark or bright as it may be 
that God leads ought to be enough for his 
child. 


“ Oh, may I then at length be taught, 
What I am still so slow to learn, 
That God is love, and changes not, 

Nor knows the shadow of a turn. 
Sweet truth, and easy to repeat ; 

But when my faith is sharply tried, 
I find myself a learner yet, 

Unskilful, weak and apt to slide.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


HOME AT RIVERSIDE. 

Aug. 28th. Dr. Chilton came to-day as 
he had promised and brought Bessie with him. 
He says the sprain is rather a severe one and I 
must not attempt to walk for a week at least. 
Bessie must have received instructions not to 
speak about the school, as she did not refer 
to the subject in any way. How very pretty 
she is, a complexion of roses and lilies, fair hair, 
all waves and curling masses, bright blue eyes 
and a sweet, smiling mouth ; the very picture 
of youth, beauty and happiness. She has such 
a bright sunny manner also that she is per- 
fectly charming. I do not wonder her family 
love her so much. She wore a white dress, 
pale blue ribbons and a coquettish little hat 
that suited her to perfection. Her brother is 
not in the least like her ; he is tall, with dark 
hair and eyes, and rather grave looking. He is 
not exactly handsome but has a good, noble ex- 
pression that is better for a man than beauty. 
I like them both. 

Aug. 29th. Dr. Chilton, the father, came 
6 ( 81 ) 


82 


CROSS ROADS. 


to see me to-day. I shall have to find some 
way of distingishing him from his son, as it ap- 
pears likely I shall see a good deal of them 
both. He came principally to tell me that the 
committee had offered me the situation in tlie 
school, and on terms so liberal that I feel as if 
my fortune was made. He says I must not 
think from Bessie’s talk that he gave me the posi- 
tion on her account, that it is the committee’s 
doing, not his, and I should have been chosen 
at any rate. I cannot help thinking, however, 
that my adventure opened his eyes to my quali- 
fications in a very desirable manner. Be that 
as it may, my good fortune is assured and I 
will try to show them that they have not chosen 
unwisely. 

School opens the seventeenth of September, 
and by that time I hope my ankle will be quite 
well again. I felt like executing an impromptu 
dance after he left, but circumstances prevented. 
I have not been in such spirits for over a 
year ; that weary anxiety and planning for the 
bare necessities of life — fruitless toil and dis- 
appointed endeavor are now over. “ Hope de- 
ferred maketh the heart sick : but when the de- 
sire cometh, it is a tree of life.” Ah! how little 
the good doctor knew how happy he has made us 
all ! I had felt as if there was no one to help me, 
no one to care, and yet my steps were being led 


HOME AT RIVERSIDE. 


83 


into the light at that very moment. “ Your 
heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of 
all these things ! ” Shall I ever learn to trust 
him ? 

Sept. 1st. I have talked with mother and 
we have made all our arrangements. With my 
salary at the school and my position in the 
choir I feel as if I had come into possession of 
a small fortune. Our wants are moderate, our 
living not at all extravagant, and we shall do 
nicely. I must board at Riverside of course, but 
can come home from Friday to Monday ; so I 
shall be at home almost as much as when I was 
away teaching all day. From what Bessie says 
I judge the principal of the Academy is very 
different from Mr. Bradshaw. She says, “ I am 
sure you will like him, all the girls do ; he is 
splendid.” I must ask her about a boarding- 
place as I shall not be able to go out myself ; 
they are all so kind, I do not mind asking them 
for a favor. 

Sept. 2nd. Bessie came to-day, as pretty as 
ever. I told her what I wanted and she agreed 
to attend to it for me. She says she knows a 
“ splendid place ” (everything is splendid with 
her). The people are friends of her’s and will 
do all they can to make me happy. They are 
so kind, I am sure I shall find them real friends 


84 


CROSS ROADS. 


and it does not seem so much like going among 
strangers. 

I must have two new dresses and some other 
things I have just “managed ” to do without, but 
now I shall need and (Oh joy !) can get them. 
I shall be very busy sewing for the next two 
weeks. Fortunately I can sit up and sew very 
comfortably, though I have not yet tried to 
walk. 

Sept. 15th. Riverside. I have found my new 
home ; and where should it be but in Doctor 
Chilton’s own house ! Bessie met me at the 
station, took me home and gravely introduced 
me to her mother as “ the new boarder,” and 
showed me my room. 

“ Did you think I was going to let you go to 
a strange boarding-house ? ” she asked, trium- 
phantly. “No indeed ; we have a big house and 
plenty of room and I determined from the first 
that you should come here and be a sister to 
me. Didn’t I mamma ? ” 

I turned to Mrs. Chilton to utter some words 
of the thanks I felt for this generous kindness, 
but she put her arm around me saying, “ My 
dear child, we have room for you not only in 
our house but in our hearts. We owe you a 
debt we can never repay and it gives us all the 
greatest pleasure to welcome you ; but for you 


HOME AT RIVERSIDE. 


85 


I should now have only one daughter ; I hope 
now to have three.’’ 

I could not say a word but hid my face on 
her shoulder for a moment. After all my 
troubles to find such a welcome as this ! I 
loved Mrs. Chilton the first time I saw her, she 
has a sweet, motherly way with her that easily 
wins love and confidence. Her children idolize 
her ; “ The heart of her husband doth safely 
trust in her.” I shall love her dearly. 

Sept. 16th. What a happy home will this be 
for me ! Father and mother, brother and sisters 
are all living together in such unity of heart 
and purpose, and they have taken me right in 
as one of themselves. At the supper table the 
young doctor spoke to me as “ Miss Alison,” 
and I replied calling him ‘Dr. Chilton,’ of 
course. 

Bessie interposed at once, “ Horace, you are 
not to call her ‘ Miss Alison ; ’ this is her home, 
she is to be my sister and you must call her 
4 Isabel.’ ” Then turning to me she continued, 
“ And you cannot call him 4 Dr. Chilton,’ for no 
one will know whether you mean him or papa. 
Now remember.” 

I was foolish enough to blush at this, chiefly 
because I saw a gleam of fun in her father’s 
eye as she thus defined our relationship, but 
4 Horace 7 said very composedly, “ That is very 


CROSS ROADS. 


well, Bessie. I certainly do not wish all my 
father’s ill deeds laid at my door. Is it a 
bargain, Miss Isabel ? ” 

“ Yes, if you will allow me to be so inaccurate 
as to say Dr. Horace,” I replied, blushing still 
more because I had blushed. But his father 
took up the challenge and a merry banter 
followed, in the course of which I was forgotten 
and my cheeks had time to cool. 

The house is quite large, standing back in a 
garden now gay with fall flowers ; an old- 
fashioned house, double, with porches and bay 
windows conveniently disposed. The parlor is 
furnished handsomely and Bessie has a fine 
piano, of which she has given me the “ freedom.” 
The dining and sitting-rooms are on the same 
floor, separated by a wide hall from the parlor. 
This sitting-room is an ideal room, parlor, 
library, and ‘ living-room ’ all in one. There are 
a cabinet organ, a well-filled book-case, pretty 
work tables, an easy lounge and cosy chairs, 
the very essence of home-comfort, while vases, 
pictures, curtains, etc., give an air of refinement 
and elegance as well. That room alone would 
give one an insight into the family character. I 
think there is a great deal of character in 
rooms. On the second floor are the bed-rooms, 
four in number ; the girls‘and their parents’ on 
one side of the hall, Horace’s opposite, and I 


HOME AT RIVERSIDE. 


87 


next in the “ spare-room.” The third floor is 
similarly arranged. Everything bespeaks ease 
and abundance, but no attempt at display. My 
room looks very fresh and cosy, with white 
curtains and pretty toilet covers etc., and a 
handsome set of furniture. There is a lovely 
view of the river and hill .beyond from the 
window. I shall take wonderful comfort and 
pleasure here I know. 

Sept. 17th. I made my first appearance at 
school to-day. It is a rather long walk, so Dr. 
Chilton took me in the buggy, “ to introduce 
me right, and to spare my foot,” he said. Mr. 
Ramsay received me very kindly and introduced 
me to my pupils. There are about thirty who 
will come into my classes. May Chilton is one, 
and Bessie comes twice a week for French and 
music. The other teacher, Miss Peck, looks 
decidedly my senior ; perhaps she does not like 
her co-laborer to look so much younger, I 
thought her greeting decidedly cool. 

Mr. Ramsay is a true gentleman. I liked his 
manner with his pupils and they appear fond 
of him ; so he cannot resemble Mr. Bradshaw. 
I hope I can make my girls like me. May 
reports that “ they all said I was splendid.” I 
hope the impression will continue, “ but a new 
broom sweeps clean,” and perhaps if I have to 
assert my authority or act counter to their 


88 


CROSS ROADS. 


wishes the current of popularity may turn. I 
trust not however : it is pleasant to have one’s 
pupils’ affection and confidence, and easy and 
delightful to teach then. 

Sept. 20th. This evening some one proposed 
music. Bessie plays quite well, and at her 
request I also sang and played. They were 
greatly pleased; it appears they are quite a 
musical family. Horace is organist in the 
church and has a fine bass voice. 

“ Wait till Frank comes home,” cried Bessie, 
gaily, “ what nice times we can have this 
winter ! He will delight to sing with you, and 
his flute goes so beautifully with the piano.” 

“ Who is this ‘ Frank ’ ? ” I asked, for I had 
heard him mentioned before. “ Is he another 
brother ? ” 

“No,” replied Mrs. Chilton, “ although Bessie 
really hardly knows any difference between 
him and Horace. He is my nephew, the son of 
my only sister, and very dear to us all.” 

“ He has lived with us ever since his mother 
died, when he was quite a little boy,” added 
Bessie. “ We have grown up together ; so no 
wonder he is like a brother to me ; I miss him 
so much, dear fellow ! ” 

“ He ought to be back now, for the college 
begins to-morrow; but Frank is never in a 


HOME AT RIVERSIDE. 89 

hurry when he is enjoying himself,” said her 
mother. 

So it appears I have not seen all the family 
yet. I hardly think I care for any additions, 
we make such a pleasant party just as we are ; 
yet they all speak of Frank in terms of affec- 
tion. I may like him, but a gay youth of eight- 
een or nineteen will probably care little for 
the society of a quiet school-ma’am. 

Sunday, 23rd. I had arranged to remain at 
Riverside this first Sabbath, as I wanted to get 
a little settled and have this first Saturday and 
Sunday to look around me ; so I went to church 
with Bessie in the morning, and she took me 
into the choir with her. Horace plays the organ, 
and the Doctor is one of the “pillars of the 
church.” 

Dr. Bacon’s sermon that morning went 
straight to my heart, as if preached for my 
especial benefit. He took for his text, “ Rest 
in the Lord, and wait patiently for him.” I am 
sure he has known sore trouble himself and found 
the remedy, or he could not have spoken such 
words of counsel and comfort. I had no 
thought of others but listened with rapt atten- 
tion to the close, how “ rapt ” I little thought 
until after a talk with Horace this evening. (I 
have to call him ‘ Horace,’ in speaking of him, 
the “ Doctor,” will not stick.) We were walk- 


90 


CROSS ROADS. 


ing home from church together, Bessie having 
accepted other company. I spoke of Dr. 
Bacon with enthusiasm, saying how much I 
enjoyed his preaching, “I wish I could hear him 
every Sunday. His face is an index of good- 
ness and benevolence. I think you can tell a 
great deal about people from their faces.” 

“Yes,” replied Horace, quietly, “for instance 
I read a whole chapter in your face this morn- 
ing. You have little idea of all I saw there as 
you listened to the sermon.” 

“ What ! were you studying me ? ” I asked, 
laughing, yet curious. “ Won’t you tell me the 
result of your observations ? I should like to 
know how far my face told the truth.” 

“ I am afraid you would not like it,” he said, 
gravely, “ it was not quite fair in me, perhaps, 
but I really could not resist the temptation ; it 
is rather a hobby of mine, this reading faces.” 

“ And of mine too,” I answered. “Let me 
hear how far you were right. I promise not to 
take offense ; besides I ought to know if my 
face is such a tell-tale.” 

“ So as to be on guard another time ? ” he 
asked, laughing. “ However, you shall tell me 
if I was wrong. I chanced to be looking to- 
ward you when the text was announced, and 
saw a look flash over your face which assured 
me that the subject had a special meaning for 


HOME AT RIVERSIDE. 


91 


you. Tliis drew my attention to you and as 
the sermon progressed I read its effect so plainly 
on your- face that I could not withdraw my 
glance, as I confess I should have done. When 
the doctor spoke of the longing for ‘ rest,’ the 
constant search for peace by all men, I saw by 
your expression that you were no stranger 
to this feeling. As he continued to depict 
the sorrow and suffering, wants and priva- 
tions of mankind, the ceaseless, fruitless search 
for happiness and rest, your face saddened 
and darkened as the picture grew deeper 
and darker ; and as he showed the helpless- 
ness of this world to satisfy the inmost long- 
ings of our souls, a sad, almost despairing look 
came over you. Pardon me if I am very per- 
sonal, I warned you, you know. I felt sure 
that you had a history also if you would tell it. 
He changed then and pointed to him who 
offers rest to this weary, sin-stricken world. 
‘ Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy 
laden, and I will give you rest.’ He spoke of 
‘ the rest that remaineth,’ how beautifully you 
remember, and a look of relief, as if a heavy 
burden had been lifted from your heart, suc- 
ceeded. Your expression changed and soften- 
ed and when at the close he told us to 4 wait 
patiently for him,’ and not long too much for 
this glorious rest until our work was done and 


92 


CROSS ROADS. 


he called us home, then your face was a pic- 
ture in which love, submission and a weary long- 
ing struggled for mastery. When you bowed 
your head in the closing prayer I felt sure it 
was to give way to the tears which made your 
eyes heavy. When }^ou raised it, you were 
radiant with joy and hope and in the closing 
hymn your voice rang out like a note of tri- 
umph, 

“ ‘ Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure.’ ” 

“ Tell me, did I not read correctly ? ” he 
asked gently, after a moment’s pause, 44 and you 
will forgive me my unwarranted intrusion 
into your thoughts ? ’* 

I tried to answer, but to my dismay — and 
his — the tears he had spoken of found their 
way into my voice and choked it. He begged 
my pardon earnestly and blamed himself for 
saying so much and recalling painful memories. 
I was ashamed of my weakness and soon con- 
trolled it. 

44 1 am foolish. I asked you to tell me, but I 
did not dream my face told such tales. You 
have not offended me : as for the painful memo- 
ries they only serve now to make the present 
brighter.” 

44 They are past then. I am glad to hear it. 
You are too young to understand that sermon 


HOME AT RIVERSIDE. 


93 


yet : we wilt try to make you so happy here that 
you may forget it.” 

(Memorandum. To sit where he cannot see 
me so well again, and to be on my guard gener- 
ally. I do not wish any one to read my heart 
in that way, however kind and sympathetic 
they may be.) 


CHAPTER IX. 


FEANK AND OTHEES. 

Monday, Sept. 24th. This afternoon I re- 
mained in my room with some sewing I wished 
to finish. Presently I was aware of an unusual 
commotion in the house, a rushing up-stairs, 
slamming of doors, a strange voice calling and 
talking. Then a quick step ran up the stairs 
again, the owner whistling “ Home, sweet 
home.” Bessie followed and from the jokes 
and laughter I concluded that 4 Frank ’ had 
come home. 

When I went down to tea I was introduced 
with due formality. He made a very graceful 
bow and behaved in a very quiet, gentle- 
manly way during .the meal. What a bright 
handsome young fellow he is ! Contrary to my 
expectations I took a fancy to him at once. 
He is not so tall as Horace, has a good figure, 
complexion like a girl’s, wavy brown hair 
brushed off a high white forehead, saucy brown 
eyes and the first faint sign of a moustache. 
He has a singularly bright, happy expression 
and winning manners. I did not wonder they 

( 94 ) 


FRANK AND OTHERS. 


95 


were all so fond of him ; he appears very affec- 
tionate, and hung around his “ auntie ” and 
Bessie as if he could not make enough of them. 
W e passed the evening pleasantly, talking and 
singing. Frank and I soon were at home over 
the piano. He has a passion for music, and 
sings a good tenor, as I found out when he 
joined me once or twice. It will be pleasant 
to sing duets. Everything and everybody is 
very pleasant ; they are all so kind and consider- 
ate. I do not know how to be grateful enough 
for this happy home. Already it seems like a 
4 home ’ to me and I feel as if I had known them 
always. 

Sept. 26th. Miss Peck will be my “ thorn 
in the flesh ” I fear. I can see that she criti- 
cises my every act and in no friendly spirit. 
Bessie says she is disappointed in not getting a 
friend of her own in my place — that dark, 
sharp lady I saw on the eventful day I first 
came to Riverside, probably. Bessie adds that 
“the girls are all glad, for they do not like Miss 
Peck and don’t want another like her.” I fear 
she may make trouble for me, for my timid 
efforts to conciliate her win no response. 

Oct. 5th. To-day I had my first struggle 
for authority and I lay it partly to the influence 
of Miss P., whether justly or not I cannot say. 
Ella Miller, one of my pupils, is a cousin of 


96 


CROSS ROADS. 


Miss P. She has not been very pleasant in her 
manner but I paid no attention to it until to- 
day. When I offered her a new piece of music 
for her next lesson she refused it and declared 
she wanted one much more difficult than she is 
yet able to accomplish. I objected but she 
said, “Fanny Jarden plays it, and I think I 
might try.” Now Fanny is one of my best 
pupils and much more painstaking than Ella. 
I told her kindly that she had better not 
attempt that piece just yet ; then she got angry 
and said she would not take the piece I had 
selected for her. 

“ You will not ! That is a manner of speak- 
ing I am not accustomed to allow,” I said, 
firmly. “You need not take this piece if you 
do not like it, but I shall not give you one be- 
yond your powers, and certainly not any until 
you learn to express yourself more properly.” 

Ella left the room ready to cry with anger 
and vexation. I was sorry for the trouble, 
but could not do otherwise. I did not speak 
to Mr. Ramsay, preferring to manage my own 
matters if possible, but Ella went home and 
(encouraged by Miss Peck, I suspect) went to 
Mr. Ramsay herself and complained that I had 
refused to give her lessons. lie came for me 
to explain the facts of the case, which I did. 


FRANK AND OTHERS. 97 

He can be very stern at times and now he 
looked at Ella with much displeasure. 

“ Ella, I am surprised to see you act in this 
manner,” he said, severely. “ Miss Alison 
knows what is best and can choose for you 
much better than you can for yourself. I am 
sorry you have forgotten yourself so far as 
to act in such an unladylike manner toward 
your teacher, and I shall expect you to make 
her an apology before she consents to receive 
you again as a pupil.” 

So Ella did not gain much by her appeal. 
She went away without speaking, however, and 
I fear will not give up easily. 

Oct. 8th. Ella missed her lesson yesterday. 
To-day I waited a little at her hour wondering 
if she would give in, and after some delay she 
appeared looking very downcast. Wishing to 
make it easier for her I asked if she was will- 
ing now to take the piece I had chosen. 

“ Yes ma’am, if you please,” she answered, 
quite meekly. 

I gave it her saying, “ When you know me 
better, Ella, you will find that I can judge 
what you are able to perform better than you 
can yourself. I should not have spoken to Mr. 
Ramsay ; you brought that on yourself.” 

Ella burst into tears at this and seemed com- 
pletely subdued ; it is a great disgrace to have 
7 


98 


CROSS ROADS. 


Mr. Ramsay scold one. She sobbed out that 
she was very sorry she had been so rude and 
begged me to forget it, and she would never 
do so again ; so that victory was easily won 
and I think we shall be good friends here- 
after. Mr. Ramsay upholds my authority very 
effectually, and while he does that I have no 
fear. The girls all like him and a reprimand 
from him is a severe punishment. 

Oct. 10th. To-day is Friday and I go home 
over Sunday to attend to my duties in the choir ; 
they take a small part of my thoughts now 
though the same time as before. Mother is very 
much pleased when I come home and tell her 
how happily I am situated. Life seems quite 
easy just now. 

Oct. 11th. Just as I was about to start yes- 
terday there came a knock at my door, and on 
opening it I found Horace who had come to 
say that he was about to drive into the city and 
would be pleased to take me. As it was a lovely 
October day I much preferred a pleasant drive 
to a ride in the cars ; so I gladly accepted his 
offer. He made himself very agreeable and 
expressed much pleasure that I was so well 
satisfied with Riverside. 

“ I should be very ungrateful if I were not 
more than satisfied, with such a home and such 
a mother as yours.’’ 


FRANK AND OTHERS. 


99 


His eye softened, “ God bless her, she is indeed 
one of a thousand, and I do believe every one 
loves her,” he said. 

I replied that I was certainly no exception 
to this rule and we gradually fell into talking 
of other subjects. He has a cultivated mind 
and is a true Christian. I liked the frank, sin- 
cere way in which he spoke : he is not ashamed 
to show that God is in all his thoughts. 

We were passing through a clump of wood- 
land and the glory of the leaves drew our 
attention to them. I quoted some lines I had 
seen somewhere : 


‘ ‘ The wind comes through the tree tops, 

And lingers round the leaves, . 

And whispers gentle words to eaeh, 

Who for a sister grieves. 

Made happy by his greeting 

Lo, bright crimson dyes her cheek, 

But silently he passes those, 

Who are not sweet or meek. 

Then jealous and in anger 
They grow. yellow, or turn pale, 

And we see them falling earthward, 

At the next rush of the gale.” 

“A pretty idea,” he said smiling. “So the 
leaves have their loves and jealousies like us 
poor mortals. It is rather hard on those pretty 
yellow ones however.” 


100 


CROSS ROADS. 


“ O, I suppose that is because yellow is the 
color of jealousy,” I replied. 

“ Now I have seen an idea that I like better 
than yours, pretty and poetic as that is,” he re- 
plied. “ It is the fashion to speak of Autumn’s 
4 melancholy days, the saddest of the year,’ but to 
me there is something triumphant in the season. 
The dying leaves put on a glory and a brightness 
they never wore before; they go gloriously and 
triumphantly to their death. It is like a Chris- 
tian, when his work is done and the season of 
his departure at hand, who should lie down re- 
joicing in the hope before him, singing in tri- 
umphant tones, 4 O death, where is thy sting ? 
O grave, where is thy victory ? ” 

44 That does indeed put to shame my senti- 
mental quotation,” I said, presently. 

44 Heaven always makes earth pale,” he re- 
joined, with a smile of rare beauty. 

Oct. 15th. I do not wonder that Bessie said 
she 44 missed ” Frank so much ; he seems to make 
half a dozen in the house. One always knows 
when he is about ; either the flute or the piano 
sounds his presence, or he is teasing Bessie, or 
calling for a game of tennis, of which he is very 
fond. I do not know when he studies ; he pre- 
tends to be reading very studiously sometimes, 
but the least thing will make him drop his book 
for a romp with Bessie, a song with me or a 


FRANK AND OTHERS. 


101 


walk down the street with some of “ the fellows ” 
who are always coming for him. Mrs. Chilton 
remonstrates sometimes. He takes it very good 
naturedly but it produces no effect whatever. 

“ Now Auntie, how can you talk so ? Am I 
not a perfect model of propriety? Here I 
am studying with all my might and Bessie in- 
terrupts me without the slightest hesitation ” 

“ O, what a story ! ” cries Bessie. 

“ And the fellows will come for me, so how 
can I help it?” he proceeds, tranquilly. 

“ You might refuse to go with them when 
you are busy,” suggests his aunt, mildly. 

“ Don’t I refuse ? This very evening Howard 
Miller came for me to go with him to Barnum’s 
and I declined — entirely on your account, 
Auntie, for I thought you would not like it. 
But I never get any credit for my sacrifices,” 
with a long sigh, “ I am obliged to parade them 
myself or no one will believe in my unobtru- 
sive virtues.” 

And with this flourish of trumpets he sub- 
sides into his book and is a picture of abstrac- 
tion for full five minutes, quite deaf to the fact 
that Horace announces that his scruples did not 
operate the night previous. 

“O, Frank, you good-for-nothing*” cries 
Bessie, springing up to box his ears. “How 


102 


CROSS ROADS. 


can you talk so to mother when you know you 
went last night ! ” 

So of course the book goes down on the floor 
under these circumstances and a struggle ensues 
ending in Bessie’s defeat, and study is over for 
that night. 

Oct. 16th. Here is another picture. “Who 
is for a game of tennis?” cries Frank, “there 
is just time before supper. Come, Bessie, you 
shall be my partner and Horace and Isabel 
shall play against us — youth and beauty against 
age and wisdom. Who wins ? ” 

We go out on the lawn and I menace Frank 
with my racket in dangerous proximity to his 
head. “ I won’t give up my share of youth in 
that way, sir,” I declare. “ You need not think 
that because I am a school-ma’am I must be an 
old maid.” 

“ And I will not give up my share of beauty,” 
declares Horace, with a twinkle in his eye. 

“ I am sure if we give you age and wisdom 
— and of course its advantages — you can afford 
to spare us such trifles,” asserts Bessie, tossing 
her ball and looking like a picture in her dark 
hat and pink ribbons and rebellious little curls. 
We all look at her and just then Frank comes 
up beside her and they make such a bright, 
handsome young pair that we succumb without 


FRANK AND OTHERS. 


103 


another word to the force of “youth and 
beauty,” and the game begins. 

Horace and Frank do not always get on well 
together. They are quite different, and Hor- 
ace’s serious, earnest nature has not much pa- 
tience with Frank’s lightness and dilatory 
motions. He sometimes speaks satirically, even 
harshly. Frank seldom retorts ; he may color 
and be silent a few moments but he does not 
bear malice and soon forgets. This gives Frank 
an advantage which he often' does not deserve ; 
for in my heart I feel Horace is right, though 
I could wish he were less harsh. 

Another thing, Horace does not like to be de- 
feated in a game, and as the supper bell rang be- 
fore we were quite through we hurried up matters 
and Horace said that Frank did not act fairly. 
Frank made no reply at the time but after 
supper he came to me and inquired if I thought 
he was unfair ; and seemed quite indignant. I 
tried to sooth his feelings for I think Horace 
was mistaken, and after Frank had gone out I 
repeated his defence to Horace. 

Horace had now cooled off and acknowledged 
he was wrong. “ Frank does provoke me and I 
speak too harshly,” he said, “ I am sorry I hurt 
his feelings, I did not really mean to doubt his 
word.” 

So when Frank came back Horace made him 


104 


CROSS ROADS. 


a very nice apology, and all was peace 
again. 

Everything moves so smoothly that even a 
jar like this is felt. 

Oct. 17th. I am afraid that Bessie is some- 
what of a coquette. I cannot see that she has 
any particular favorite, unless indeed it is Wil- 
lard Lloyd ; and that may only be because he 
is oftener here than the others. We seldom 
spend an evening alone. I am surprised at 
times to see into what a gay party of young 
folks I have been thrown, yet I enjoy it amaz- 
ingly and feel at least five years younger than I 
did last winter. I suppose we act foolishly and 
talk a great deal of nonsense ; but I do not 
think it hurts any one, and I know I can work 
better the next day for the pleasure and relax- 
ation of the evening. I have had no trouble at 
school since Ella Miller’s unsuccessful attempt 
at rebellion ; some slight disagreements I easily 
settled. Miss Peck does not regard me any 
more favorably, I see. Some of “ my girls ” I am 
already growing fond of. There is Sadie Ash- 
mun, a dark-eyed, sweet looking girl, one of my 
special favorites. Alice Campbell is a gay, 
independent little beauty, one of my best pu- 
pils ; her father is one of the wealthiest men in 
town and Alice is his only daughter and quite 
a belle already, although only sixteen. May is 


FRANK AND OTHERS. 


105 


a dear child, gentle and timid, very different 
from Bessie both in character and person ; no 
fear of her ever developing into a coquette. 
Surely “ the lines have fallen unto me in pleas- 
ant places.” 1 love Riverside. 

Oct. 21st. Last evening was stormy and we 
had no visitors ; so we devoted it to music. 
Frank and I had been practicing a duet which 
we tried for the first time in public with “ un- 
bounded applause,” he declared. Then I sang 
a little favorite of mine which I told him would 
sound much better as a duet, both words and 
air are very sweet,; he must learn to sing it 
with me. 

“ What will you do, love, when I am going, 

With white sails flowing, far out at sea? ” 

It is the story of a girl whose lover is going 
afar, and he asks if “ her faith will abide, when 
waves divide them, and friends may chide 
them, for being # fond.” She replies that she 
will “ pray for him, in the stormy ocean, with 
deep devotion,” etc. Then he asks “ What will 
you do, Love, if his bark be lost returning 
home, 

‘‘With high hopes burning 
And wealth for you ? ” 

And she replies again : 


106 


CROSS ROADS. 


“ So thou wert saved 
‘ Mid paiu and sorrow, 

I’d bless the morrow 
That brought me you ; 

And I’d welcome you 
From the raging billow, 

This heart thy pillow ; 

That’s what I’d do.” 

“ Would you ? ” whispered Horace softly, as 
I turned away from the piano. “ If I were a 
man,” said Bessie, “ I would like to have Isabel 
sing that for me ; she says every word as if she 
meant it — and she would too. Isabel, if you 
are ever in love you will take it very hard.” 

“She will sing it for me,” said Frank, com- 
ing up and leaning over the piano as he spoke, 
“ did she not say it would sound better for me 
to take one part. Don’t blush so Isabel, I 
beg” 

I pushed him away laughing, “ I will not 
sing it at all, you are all so foolish about it,” 
and I dashed off into something else. 

Oct. 22nd. Sadie Ashmun is sick, with a 
heavy cold and fever. Dr. Chilton attends her. 
He was speaking of Sadie to-day, saying how 
lonely she seemed. Her parents live in the 
city and she boards with Mr. Ramsay. I must 
go to see her to-morrow. She is a dear child 
and appears fond of me ; perhaps a visit will 
cheer her up somewhat. 


FRANK AND OTHERS. 


107 


Oct. 23rd. Poor child ! I found Sadie quite 
sick, with burning cheeks, and eyes that filled 
with tears as she saw me. I thought she was 
homesick but she said no, 44 this is as much 
home to me as any place.” Mrs. Chilton told 
me Sadie’s story afterward. Her father has a 
second wife, a selfish young woman jealous of 
Sadie and her father’s affection for her. Mr. 
Ashmun married 44 principally to make a home 
for Sadie,” he said, but his choice was not a wise 
one and he only succeeded in making her pres- 
ent home unhappy. 44 Like many widowers,” 
said Mrs. Chilton, 44 he was fascinated by a gay 
young girl and married her without thinking 
whether she was fitted to be a mother to his 
motherless child, Sadie was twelve then; but 
after two years’ trial and the advent of a baby 
brother the father found it would be more for 
his child’s happiness to send her away to school ; 
so she came to Riverside.” Mr. and Mrs. 
Ramsay are kind to her and she is pleasantly 
situated ; but it is not like home and she has 
no other home to look forward to. There are 
few hearts that can receive a stranger as the 
Chiltons did me. Mrs. C. gave me a dish of 
jelly for Sadie. I must take it to her to-mor- 
row ; not that Mrs. Ramsay does not give her 
nice things, but I flatter myself it will taste 
better to her if I bring it. 


108 


CROSS ROADS. 


Oct. 81st. This pleasant month is over, and 
out-door pleasures are about done for this year. 
I have enjoyed this autumn so much that I am 
sorry to think of cold weather setting in, though 
I dare say I shall find many winter pleasures. 
Bessie talks of sleighing parties, and long home 
evenings around the fire are always pleasant. 


CHAPTER X. 


EASILY INFLUENCED. 

Nov. 2nd. Sadie Ashmun has come back 
looking rather pale, but she says she is quite well 
again. Her sickness and my visits seem to 
have drawn us close together, slie clings to me. 
I shall take her under my wing and try to make 
it pleasanter for her if I can, for I love the 
child already. She is a favorite with the girls, 
an earnest student and a sweet, lovable girl. 
They all welcome her back eagerly. 

Nov. 5th. This was our Communion Sab- 
bath, it set me to thinking and examining my- 
self as I have not done lately. There has been 
so much to please and interest me of late, and 
carry me out of myself that I have forgotten 
to watch as I ought. I am afraid I have not 
‘grown’ much, these past weeks ; new duties and 
friends have taken up my time and thoughts 
almost completely. How selfish and ungrate- 
ful that seems, to keep close to God while I 
was in trouble and wanted his help, and then, 
when he gave me what I asked, to forget him 
and enjoy the gifts without remembering the 

( 109 ) 


110 


CROSS ROADS. 


Giver. What would I think of such conduct 
toward any earthly friend! and yet it is infi- 
nitely worse thus to treat our heavenly Father. 

“ What hast thou done for God, my soul ? 

Look o’er thy misspent years and see ; 

Sum up what thou hast done for God, 

And then what he has done for thee.” 

Mother is very much interested in what I 
tell her of my Riverside home. Bessie quite 
charmed her by her beauty and gayety, and she 
considers “Dr. Chilton a very fine young man.” 
She has not seen Frank, but laughs at my 
accounts of his pranks and speeches. I want 
her to meet Mrs. Chilton, I am sure they would 
like each other and be congenial in many ways. 
Katie looks bright and happy and is doing well 
at school. She is growing up very lovely, but 
she does not think of herself. She is very 
childish still, although fifteen ; but we like 
to keep her so — our baby.” 

Nov. 6th. The trees are nearly bare now 
and the wind whistles around the house shrilly 
enough. The flowers are all gone in the gar- 
den and only the evergreens remain to tell 
of the summer’s greenness. Last night there 
was a slight fall of snow, the first of the sea- 
son. As I looked out over the powdered trees 
I realized that winter is really at hand. I felt 


EASILY INFLUENCED. 


Ill 


it as I walked briskly toward the school ; my 
ears tingled and the fire in my room was gladly 
welcomed. This is Riverside in a new aspect. 
Bessie came down to breakfast with a little 
scarlet sacque over her morning dress, looking 
brighter and prettier than ever. With what 
different feelings I watch the on-coming of this 
winter from that of the last ; no thoughts of 
winter coal, or needed clothing vex me. I 
know I can get what I need and I have learned 
to do without useless luxuries. I am thankful 
for this rest and security. How many are still 
tortured by such anxieties and know not where 
to turn. I must not forget to be sympathetic 
with them. 

Nov. 8th. Frank is very impracticable some- 
times. Say what you may, exhaust all your 
X>owers of eloquence and argument and he will 
listen to it all without the least ill-humor, 
acknowledge his short-comings and go on ex- 
actly as he would if you had never spoken. 
This is very discouraging, especially as you 
always think, “Well, I have made some im- 
pression this time: surely he will do differently.” 
All the arguments his uncle or aunt bring to 
bear against his ‘ smoking ’ are useless. He 
knows it is bad for him, and disagreeable to 
others, but the knowledge has no effect on the 
practice, which he carries to excess. 


112 


CROSS ROADS. 


“ People talk about Frank being 4 so easily 
influenced,’” said Horace, the other day. 
“ Mother is afraid of his getting into bad com- 
pany, being led into trouble by these 4 fellows ’ 
he is constantly with. He is indeed 4 easily 
influenced ’ to do as he wishes — to neglect study, 
spend money freely, stay out late at night 
etc. ; but take him on the other tack and you 
cannot influence him a particle. All this talk 
about smoking does not make him use one 
cigar less. If Howard Miller or Will Lloyd 
comes for him, he will leave his books to walk or 
ride, Sunday or week-day, night or morning, as 
he chooses. It is not so much strength of 
character he lacks as principle ; he can stand 
firm enough to do what he chooses.” 

I could not deny the truth of this statement, 
Horace is never very lenient with Frank, but 
this was stern truth. I love Frank. One can- 
not help it for all his provoking ways, he is so 
bright, so obliging and affectionate ; yet I wish 
he had half the real worth and principle of his 
cousin. He sadly wants moral back-bone to 
his character, and without it all his sweetness 
and pleasant ways only make his friends more 
anxious for him. He lacks the one ruling 
principle of love to God ; that would lead him 
to choose the right instead of the pleasantest 
path. I doubt if he ever thinks seriously of it 


EASILY INFLUENCED. 


113 


himself, much less asks for it : he “ cares for 
none of these things,” yet I trust he will learn 
the lesson before it is too late. 

Nov. 10 th. My school-duties are very 
pleasant here, Mr. Ramsay is most courteous 
and considerate, and the girls generally are 
obedient and affectionate. I have very little 
trouble with discipline ; Mr. Ramsay has the 
school in good order and upheld my authority 
so effectually at first that there is no question 
on that point. I am glad, for there is so little 
difference in age between myself and some of 
the older girls that I might otherwise have had 
trouble. Miss Peck is no more friendly; she 
is so short when I speak to her that I seldom 
address her unnecessarily. Perhaps this is not 
right, but I fear the old pride in my nature is 
pretty strong yet, and I do not like to make 
advances when they are so coldly received, par- 
ticularly when I have done nothing to merit 
such coolness. Yet would it not be more 
Christianlike to win her good will than to let 
her stand alone ? I do not need it perhaps, for 
she does me no harm by her prejudice. Still I 
like to be friends with every one, if possible, 
and I believe she would be happier if she liked 
me ; it cannot be pleasant to be nursing jealous 
or bitter feelings toward any one. I think I 
will try her ; it will be good discipline for me 


114 


CROSS ROADS. 


doubtless to keep down proud or resentful feel- 
ings. 

Nov. 12th. A little thing, not worth record- 
ing perhaps ; yet as it is the beginning of my 
efforts I will put it down. Just as the school 
was closing there came up a sudden storm of 
rain and snow. I happened to have left my 
umbrella here a day or two ago and so was pre- 
pared for the storm as very few others were. I 
saw Miss Peck standing on the steps, anxiously 
viewing the aspect of the weather, and noticed 
also that she had on her best alpaca dress. 
She is very particular about her clothes and I 
knew she dreaded a wetting. I threw up my 
window and called to her to wait for me, and 
donning my cloak and hat ran down and offered 
her half of my umbrella. She accepted with 
a rather bad grace, as if she would rather not 
have done so but for the beloved alpaca. I 
was not to be daunted by trifles, however, but 
persisted in being amiable, giving her the larger 
half of the umbrella and going a little out of 
my way to see her safely to her own door. She 
thanked me rather more graciously then, and I 
went on my way rejoicing. That much she 
had to yield me. What next, I wonder ? 

Nov. 15th. This evening I wandered into 
the parlor after tea to indulge myself in a “ good 
practice,” Bessie having gone to Abbie Jame- 


EASILY INFLUENCED. 


115 


son’s to tea and Horace to see a patient. I 
hoped Frank would keep me company. He 
came and stood in the doorway, with a pipe in 
his mouth. Then he said, “ Isabel, if I thought 
it would make you happy I’d stay and practice 
with you all the evening, but unfortunately I 
have an engagement; and business you know 
must come before pleasure. That is always my 
motto.” 

“ ‘ Down soothless insulter, I trust not the • 
tale ! ’ ” I exclaimed waving a sheet of music at 
him. “ Your ‘business ’ is about as important as 
your pleasure ; when Howard Miller and you 
get together the amount of business transacted 
is not overwhelming.” 

“You know nothing about it,” he asserted, 
“have not we as much right to talk as you 
girls? Here is winter almost upon us and I 
have not decided yet as to the cut of my trousers, 
the color of my vest, or more important still 
the style of wearing my whiskers. Which 
would you advise now — side whiskers or. full 
beard ? ” 

“ I’d advise some patent mustache per- 
suader in the first place, and next a good 
dose of blacking ; can’t ” 

Alas ! I did not finish that sentence for “ the 
Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,” 
and I was whirled off the music stool, made to 


110 


CROSS ROADS. 


1 feel the coming man ’ and execute an im- 
promptu dance until I panted for breath. A 
ring at the door at that moment announced 
Howard’s arrival and Frank rushed off in 
triumph, leaving his favorite pipe on the floor 
where it had been thrown in the struggle. 
After he was gone I was seized with remorse 
for thus treating Mrs. Chilton’s best carpet ; so I 
went after a pan and brush and swept up the 
scattered ashes as carefully as possible and then 
hid the pipe. 

Nov. 18th. Miss Peck was quite unwell 
to-day with a heavy cold ; so after recess I sent 
Sadie to say that if she wished to go home I 
would attend to her classes for the remainder 
of the day. I hardly expected she would accept 
my offer ; so was not surprised when Sadie came 
back with her report, “Miss Peck says she is 
much obliged to you but she prefers to attend 
to her own duties; she is not accustomed to 
give up because of any slight indisposition.” 
Not a very gracious reply to my well-meant 
offer. Sadie was highly indignant but I told her 
to be silent about it. I do not expect to succeed 
at first ; she must learn that I have no feeling 
but good will to her before she will trust me. I 
hope to teach her in time ; until then, patience ! 

Nov. 24th. To-morrow is Thanksgiving. I 
shall spend it at home, especially as I shall be 


EASILY INFLUENCED. 


117 


needed at church in the morning ; but Bessie is 
to have a company in the evening and will not 
listen to my being absent then. Horace, “to 
keep the peace ” as Frank declared, offered to 
drive me out before dark. I objected to putting 
him to that trouble saying I could come in the 
cars if I must be there ; but he asserted “ it 
would be no trouble whatever,” etc., etc., so 
the point is thus settled. 

Nov. 25th. A pleasant day and the services 
at the church in the morning were beautiful. I 
could enter fully into the thanksgiving for I 
felt I had so much to be thankful for. Flow 
various and great are the good gifts of God ! 
Mr. Adams spoke very earnestly and made me 
realize more than ever how we should “In 
everything give thanks.” Horace came for me 
about four o’clock. It is the first ride I have 
had with him since that day in October when 
everything was so bright and beautiful. We 
both spoke of the difference to-day, as the trees 
stood so brown and bare against the pale sky ; 
then we rode on silently. I was not aware how 
long the silence had lasted until Horace bent 
toward me saying, “What are you thinking 
about that keeps you so quiet? Won’t you 
give me the benefit of your thoughts?” 

I hesitated, for I had been going over the 
events of the last year, thinking how little a 


118 


CROSS ROADS. 


year ago I had dreamed of Riverside or this 
happy home, reviewing my way from darkness 
to light, and speculating a little as to the future. 
“ You are such a good physiognomist that you 
should be able to tell without asking,” I said, 
laughingly. 

it Perhaps I can,” he answered, “ your pictures 
are dark at first, brightening toward the close, 
and doubtful in the future. 

“I wish ,” I began, impetuously turning 

to him, then suddenly changing, “ I’ll study 
you now — turn about is fair play.” But I 
tried in vain ; his face was impenetrable and 
I gave it up in despair. I wonder what' he 
does not see in my face. I wish I could re- 
member to guard my countenance but I could 
not control it, if I did. He must often find out 
what he does not tell me. 

Bessie was queen of the evening and looked 
as pretty as a picture. Alice Campbell was there 
to divide the honors, and Frank devoted him- 
self to her quite to the neglect of every one 
else. I fancied Will Lloyd watched Bessie 
very closely. I believe he cares more for that 
young lady than she at all realizes. We had a 
gay evening ; the Chiltons know how to enter- 
tain company. Horace acted his part to per- 
fection, doing double duty to atone for Frank’s 
neglect. 


EASILY INFLUENCED. 


119 


Nov. 28th. Miss Peck has been sick since 
Thanksgiving ; she was not at school to-day but 
sent a note asking if I would be so kind as to 
attend to her classes when it was in my power. 
I was glad of the opportunity of doing her a 
favor ; this shows that she remembers my offer 
of last week, although she refused it, and thinks 
I am willing to befriend her ; that much is 
gained. Sadie. was quite provoked at my com- 
pliance. “ I should think she would be ashamed 
to ask it after her message last week,” she said, 
indignantly. 44 She don’t deserve that you 
* should hear a class for her.” 

44 Hush Sadie, there is no merit in doing- 
favors only for our friends. I want to teach 
her to like me.” 

44 If she was like any one else she would have 
learned that long ago,” said Sadie, affectionately. 
44 You are too good to her Miss Alison, after all 
her ugliness to you.” 

I smiled at the idea of my being 44 too good,” 
but the child loves me and really thinks I am 
something superior, I believe. 

“No fear of being 4 too good ’ Sadie,” I said. 
“ I hope to be good enough to teach her to like 
me ; but even if I fail in that it is none the less 
my duty to help her when I can. Remember 
the rule : 4 Bear ye one another’s burdens, and 
so fulfil the law of Christ.’ ” 


120 


CROSS ROADS. 


To my surprise Sadie’s eyes filled with tears 
at these words and she turned away. I do not 
often quote Scripture, and do not speak of such 
things as often as I ought, perhaps. Sadie is a 
dear girl ; to-day her tearful eyes and evident 
emotion stirred my heart. May not her thoughts 
be turning to this subject. Perhaps she only 
needs a word of sympathy to make her open 
her heart, and shall T refuse to speak it ? If 
she will hear it from any one she will from me. 
I must try to throw down this barrier of diffi- 
dence, and address her. Surely, surely if I 
love Jesus it ought not to be hard. “ Out of 
the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.” 
I remember at her age how I longed to open 
my heart on this question, and yet how I shrank 
from confessing it ; Sadie is not proud and 
reserved as I was ; I can gain her confidence. 
Shall I talk to her on every other subject and 
shun this most important one? Help me to 
witness for thee, dear Saviour. Thou wert not 
ashamed to own thy weak followers, and shall 
we blush for thee ? ” 

Nov. 29th. It was as I thought, a word to 
Sadie, a whispered question, and she was sob- 
bing in my arms. No pride or reserve there ; it 
only needed a touch and the fountain was 
opened : she was only waiting for me. The 
first word was the only difficulty ; after that I 


EASILY INFLUENCED. 


121 


did not hesitate and Sadie listened with tearful 
eagerness. 44 You want just such a friend, dear 
Sadie,” I said, “you are lonely and often 
sorrowful. Jesus will give you comfort and will 
care for all your troubles.” 

44 1 want to go to him,” said Sadie, tearfully, 
44 1 have asked him to take me, but I do not 
seem to know how.” 

44 Are you willing to obey him, to give up 
everything for him ? ” I asked. 

44 Yes, everything,” sobbed Sadie. 

I was silent for a moment ; then God put 
words into my mouth. 44 Dear Sadie, you 
believe what I tell you ; do you not ? If I should 
promise to give you a certain thing, if you 
asked for it, would you not expect me to fulfil 
my word? And would not you think me 
strange and changeable if after such asking I 
should refuse you ? ” 

“But do you think God means it that way ? ” 
asked Sadie, opening wide her brown eyes. 

44 He says, 4 Him that cometh unto me I will 
in no wise cast out,’ 4 Ask, and it shall be 
given you ; seek, and ye shall find.’ Dear Sadie, 
if you would trust me when you have known 
me so short a time and I have done so little for 
you, can you not trust him who has watched 
over you all your life and who gave his own life 
for you ? ” 


122 


CROSS ROA£>S. 


“ But I do not know how to come,” objected 
Sadie. 

“If I promised on condition that you 
came, would you question about the manner 
of coming ? You have asked, you say. God 
has promised to answer. He is more ready to 
give than we are to receive. Dear child, I 
believe he has answered you, but you do not 
realize it, ‘ Only believe. ’ ” 

“And is that all?” exclaimed Sadie, a new 
light dawning on her fair face. 

“ That is all — about the coming — afterwards 
we are to show that we are his by our lives.” 

“I am so unworthy,” sobbed Sadie, “I cannot 
honor him. I am not good enough.” 

“ We are all alike in that, dear. He will help 
us to grow more worthy, and we cannot stand 
neutral. He does not ask great things of us ; 
our little daily tasks glorify him if done for 
him. Let us help each other, dear.” Blessed 
Saviour how sweet was the task of leading this 
lamb into thy fold. How can I ever thank thee 
for the privilege of being thy instrument in 
ever so slight a way to show her the light? 
Poor, weak, and ignorant, I dared not guide 
another ; but thou didst take me by the hand 
and so I feared not to lead her onward to thee. 

Dec. 1st. Miss Peck came back to-day; she 
thanked me rather coldly for my “ trouble,” and 


EASILY INFLUENCED. 


123 


afterwards the girls said, found fault with all I 
had done, contradicted some of my teachings 
and slighted me obviously. They were very 
indignant. I felt angry also at first and 
thought, “ I will not put myself out to help her 
again if these are my thanks.” Afterwards I 
changed my mind ; I did not do it for thanks 
and can afford to do without them, although it 
is pleasanter to feel that a favor is appreciated. 
She is hard to win — shall I give up for 
that? No, I will persevere. I must succeed 
at last, “ In due season we shall reap, if we 
faint not.” 

Dec. 5th. A heavy snow fell last night. 
When I awoke this morning it was to look out 
on a world shrouded in purest white : the garden 
walks were covered, the evergreens, heavily 
laden, stood like huge pyramids, and still the 
grey skies hung above and the white shower 
fell softly, silently to the earth. 

“ May must not go to school to-day,” said the 
doctor, at the breakfast table. “She must not 
risk taking cold. I suppose it will be of no use 
to lay a similar order on you, Isabel.” 

“Certainly not; I was hoping that you would 
volunteer to see me safely there,” I replied, 
laughing. 

“ Well, if you must go, I will see that you 
arrive in good order, but I think scholars will 


124 


CROSS ROADS. 


be few and far between : this is a heavy 
storm.” 

An hour later the sleigh was at the door and 
the doctor tucked me snugly in. I enjoyed the 
rapid drive through the frosty air and wished 
the distance to the Academy had been twice as 
far. It is not often I have such a treat. 

The doctor left me at the gate with directions 
to wait for him if he was not on hand as soon 
as school was dismissed. Few of the girls ven- 
tured out that day, so we had a pleasant time 
and the morning passed quickly away. The 
snow fell all the morning and by noon the 
white drifts were piled almost to my waist. It 
was Friday and my afternoon to go to the city, 
but they all cried out against it. 

“ It is folly to think of it,” said the doctor. 
“ The trains will not be able to pass through 
the cut, the snow drifts so.” 

“No sleigh will take you to the station this 
afternoon,” said Horace, smiling, “and you 
would sink to your waist if you attempted to 
walk. You must stay to-night.” 

“ ‘ Try not the pass the old man said, 

The snow lies heavy overhead, 

spouted Frank, theatrically. 

“You think you will provoke me to cry 
‘Excelsior,’” I replied, “but you are mistaken. 


EASILY INFLUENCED. 


125 


I yield to the force of circumstances and grace- 
fully take the advice. I have no chance to re- 
fuse.” 

Dec. 6th. To-day the snow drifts were 
cleared. I set out for town, and reached it 
safely although detained some little time on 
the way. I am afraid I have taken cold. I 
feel chilly and unwilling to stir from the fire ; 
hope it will prove a slight attack. 

Dec. 7th. Sabbath morning, bright and 
cloudless : the sun dazzles one’s eyes by its 
brilliant reflection on the white snow, and the 
deep, deep blue sky is almost as bright. I am 
so hoarse, I cannot sing a note ; so all my perse- 
vering efforts are of no avail. I do not feel 
like reading or doing anything but lie on 
the sofa and be petted. Mother has made me 
hot lemonade and tea and toast, and now threat- 
ens gruel — What next? I must get better or 
how can I go back to-morrow and teach ? 


CHAPTER XI. 


COLLEGE PLANKS. 

Dec. 17th. Nearly two weeks since I wrote 
in this Journal. I have been quite sick. That 
Monday morning when I left mother, much to 
her concern, and started for Riverside, I felt 
badly enough ; but my day’s work lay before 
me and I said nothing. It was a dull, dragging 
day, I scarcely knew how it went. Mr. Ram- 
say found that I was sick at noon and wished 
me to give up and go home, but I felt deter- 
mined to finish the day and I did. Mrs. Chil- 
ton sent me to bed, as soon as I reached home. 
The doctor came up to see me and declared I 
was only fit for bed, and I felt so convinced of 
the truth of his remarks that I lay there help- 
lessly for five days, and after that could only 
lie on the sofa or sit up for a short time. Mrs. 
Chilton nursed me as tenderly as my own 
mother could have done. Bessie fluttered in 
and out, full of compassion and kindly ways 
and May was a most patient little waiting- 
maid. I did not see Horace for a week, though 

Frank came to the door several times to ask 
(126) 


COLLEGE PRANKS. 


127 


for me, yet the messages and little tokens 
Bessie brought me from him assured me I was 
not forgotten. 

Dee. 18th. I was very tired after writing 
yesterday. I find I have said nothing about 
my kind friends outside. Mr. Ramsay has 
been most kind and the girls have paid me 
many visits. Sadie came every day, dear 
child ! Miss Peck has taken charge, most 
amiably “ for her,” Sadie says. I fancy she 
can bestow a favor better than receive one. 
Frank came out in a new character; came 
every day to my door to ask how I felt and if 
he could do anything for me, brought white 
grapes and oranges, and for a week went about 
the house so quietly I did not know when he 
was in it — a forbearance I fully appreciated, 
for I know it must have cost him an effort not 
to fly at the piano as soon as he came in. 
When I came down-stairs again he hung about 
and waited on me with the greatest devotion, 
a little extra flourish of manner put on per- 
haps, but that is his fun. 

Horace said little and made no show of at- 
tention, but he stayed at home the whole even- 
ing I first came down -stairs, and was so kind 
and thoughtful that I shall not forget it. 

Dec. 20th. To-day I went to school again. 
The girls made quite a rejoicing. I attributed 


128 


CROSS ROADS. 


it partly to their pleasure in escaping from 
Miss Peck’s charge. She was very gracious 
and said she was glad I was able to be out 
again. I believe she meant it. I always do 
believe people when they say nice things, un- 
less I know they are given to flattery. It is a 
great deal pleasanter to think they feel kindly 
to you. I know I never say such things unless 
I mean them. 

Dec. 21st. This Sabbath I spent at River- 
side, the only one since that memorable day 
last October, nearly three months ago. I went 
to church with Bessie, who was a picture to 
look at in her little velvet jacket and hat with 
its saucy feather. I don’t wonder the students 
admire her. I took care to sit where Horace 
could not see my face, but the good doctor’s 
sermon though excellent and instructive did 
not stir my heart as on that day, I suppose be- 
cause the subject did not come so home to me. 

Frank did not go with us. “ Frank hardly 
ever goes to church,” said Bessie, “ he ought to 
be ashamed of himself. He knows papa and 
mamma want him to go, but unless it is to take 
Alice Campbell some evening he scarcely ever 
sets his foot inside the church door.” 

I was sorry to hear this. I knew Frank was 
gay and careless, but I did not know he was so 
completely regardless of the claims of the dajr. 


COLLEGE PRANKS. 


129 


Another thing I found out in the afternoon. 
Howard Miller drove up in his dashing little 
sleigh after dinner to take Frank out riding. I 
hardly thought Frank would go with him. 
Mrs. Chilton looked anxiously at him but said 
not a word. Bessie was less silent. 

“ Frank Marshall ! You ought to be ashamed 
to go sleighing on Sunday. I wish that How- 
ard Miller would stay where he belongs. He 
is always coming after you to go somewhere 
with him.” 

“ Bessie,” said Frank, facing round in the 
door-way, “ Is it any worse to ride on Sunday 
than to walk, or to lounge around and smoke ? 
Where is the difference ? ” 

Bessie had no reply ready, so I said as gently 
as I could, “ Is there no other alternative, 
Frank ? ” 

He made no reply but ran down-stairs, stop- 
ping at the door to call back, “ Auntie, don’t 
wait supper for me, I may not be back till late. 
We are going to Drown’s.” Now the Drowns 
are Howard’s cousins, gay, lively girls who live 
in a town about ten miles distant, and Bessie 
says Frank often drives out there with Howard 
and takes Sunday tea. “ He might do worse,” 
said his aunt, with a sigh, “but is that ‘keeping 
the Sabbath holy ’ ? ” Ah, Frank ! those who 
love you cannot but be anxious for your future. 


130 


CROSS ROADS. 


Dec. 22nd. I was always afraid that Bessie 
was something of a coquette and I felt sure 
Willard Lloyd cared more for her than she at 
all imagined. This has now been proved ; he 
has made her a formal proposal of marriage and 
seemed quite surprised when she declined ; he 
declared that she had 44 encouraged him,” which 
in fact she had. Bessie is half vexed and half dis- 
posed to treat the affair as a joke ; her mother 
was more serious with her about it. 

44 I like him well enough, better than any 
of the rest, and that ought to content him,” 
declared the little beauty, “ but I am not going 
to be married to him nor to any one, and he 
need not think it.” 

“ But he evidently thinks you gave him rea- 
son to infer otherwise,” said Mrs. Chilton. 
44 Did you ever promise him you would, Bes- 
sie ? ” 

44 All the girls have beaus and I thought it 
would be kind of nice to be 4 engaged,’ ” says 
Bessie, pouting, 44 and he would not give me 
any peace, but I never meant to marry him, and 
I’ll never be engaged again to any one, never.” 

44 Then you have been very thoughtless, my 
daughter, and have given unnecessary pain. 
True love is not a thing to be trifled with and 
thrown away. I am very sorry for Willard.” 

Bessie pouted and seemed inclined to cry a 


COLLEGE PRANKS. 


131 


little at this ; she is not in her usual spirits to- 
day and confided to me that “the fellows 
are so unreasonable there is no getting along 
with them.” Willard has gone home for the 
holidays. I doubt if he returns to college. I 
saw him at the depot to-day and he looked very 
pale and worn, he bowed to me very stiffly. 
Poor fellow, his Christmas will be a sad one. 

Dec. 25th. Mrs. Chilton insisted that I 
should spend my Christmas day here instead of 
at home as I had expected, and very kindly 
asked mother and Katie out to dinner. “ Your 
mother promised to come and visit us, the day 
she came here when you were ill, and this is a 
favorable opportunity.” So they came and we 
had such a happy day ! I knew mother and 
Mrs. Chilton would suit each other, and was not 
disappointed. Katie and May had heard so 
much of each other that they were each anx- 
ious to meet and were soon friends. Katie is 
a little older than May but so childish for her 
years that they agreed nicely ; she looked very 
pretty in her blue cashmere, and her fair curls 
made a pretty contrast to May’s darker locks. 
“ Why did you not have a sister who looked 
more like you ? ” asked Frank. 

I found several pretty gifts at my plate at 
breakfast. Bessie had painted me a lovely 
port-folio for my music and May had knitted a 


132 


CROSS ROADS. 


soft white hood for evening wear. There was 
a beautifully illustrated copy of “ The Vision of 
of Sir Launfal,” with a card bearing Horace’s 
name, and an exquisite bouquet from Frank, 
and one just like it for Bessie. Dr. and Mrs. 
Chilton gave me a beautiful engraving, framed, 
for my room. I felt embarrassed at so many 
remembrances and thought my gifts would look 
poor in comparison, but they appeared as well 
pleased as if they had been more valuable. How 
much happier this Christmas than the last ! so 
many more to give to and receive from. Katie 
had several pretty gifts also. 

“Dec. 28th. I am spending the holiday' week 
at home, yet— I blush to write it — I fear I 
would rather have remained at Dr. Chilton’s : it 
seems almost as much 4 home ’ there, and there 
are gay doings planned for the holidays, I shall 
miss some of them, but at others both mother 
and Bessie agreed that I must be present : 
meanwhile I try to be useful and make it 
brighter for the dear ones I find here. 

Dec. 29th. This afternoon I had a visit from 
Sadie, who is passing her vacation also “at 
home ” in the city. She says she longs to go 
back to school. “ I am happier there,” she says. 
“ I miss you and the girls, and it is so cheerless 
at home. Little Willie won’t let me touch him 
and calls me “ naughty sister,” though I would 


COLLEGE -PRANKS. 


133 


love him so much if he would let me.” Of her 
step-mother she said nothing. “ Papa is always 
kind; but he is away all day.” 

Poor child ! with her loving, generous heart 
to be so slighted. I can only account for her 
step-mother’s unkindness by the theory that she 
is jealous of Sadie’s part in her father’s affection. 
How wicked and hateful! This makes Sadie 
homeless despite her father’s wealth. In a few 
years she will have finished her schooling, and 
where can she go then ? What prospect of 
happiness is there for her in her father’s house ? 
My heart yearns for her, but I remember she is 
a child of God and he will provide. 

Dec. 30th. Last night there was a sleighing 
party out to Drown’s, to which I went with 
Plorace. Frank and Howard Miller took a 
sleigh for Alice Campbell and Bessie. The rest 
were in single sleighs and one large omnibus on 
runners. Horace had his father’s little cutter. 
It was a gay party and we had a gay time. 

Willard -Lloyd has not been seen since Christ- 
mas. Frank says he has gone back to his South- 
ern home and will not return to college. Bes- 
sie says nothing, but she must surely miss Wil- 
lard for he was always her escort on all such 
occasions. Poor fellow, he deserved a better 
return. 

There was much merry-making on the way 


134 


CROSS. ROADS. 


out, as was to be expected with such a 
party. Bessie’s laugh was as gay as ever ; evi- 
dently her heart was untouched. The clear, 
frosty air and the reaction from the quiet at 
home had put me into dancing spirits, and Hor- 
ace responded, throwing aside his usual gravity 
as I had never seen him. 

We were warmly received at the house. 
There are two young ladies, cousins of Howard 
Miller, who often visit in Riverside and are 
glad to have their home enlivened by such par- 
ties. The father and mother are cordial, jolly 
people who are fond of young folks and only 
laugh at all their doings ; of course there was 
nothing improper, only high spirits. 

The night was glorious, the fields stretched 
away in a white unbroken line, deary visible, 
the sky “ blackly blue ” was studded thickly 
with golden stars that never shone brighter, 
and the moon shed a flood of silver light over 
the landscape. The gay laughter of girlish 
voices and jingling sleigh bells rang out on the 
clear, frosty air and we started to return in 
high spirits. Frank was foremost in fun and 
frolic all the evening, his jests and jokes the 
source of many a laugh. “ Frank Marshall is 
such a limb,” said Emily Drown, “ I never saw 
a fellow with such spirits, he is never at a loss 


COLLEGE PRANKS. 


135 


for some nonsense.” I do wonder if he ever 
has a serious thought. 

Horace Chilton is as fond of studying the 
stars as "Robert Howland used to be, but he 
does it in a different way. They sparkled and 
twinkled so last night that it was impossible 
not to remark their brilliancy. Of all times to 
study the heavens give me a cloudless winter 
night. 

“ How many such scenes do you suppose 
those stars look down upon to-night ? ” asked 
Horace, as we drove homewards, a little behind 
the gay party, “ and into what strangely differ- 
ent homes must they look. If we could take 
their place for one night and sweep this world 
with a glance how our gayety would vanish 
and what little things we would appear with 
our passing pleasures.” 

“ ‘ When I consider thy heavens, the work of 
thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou 
hast ordained ’ ” — I quoted, for that verse 
always comes to my mind in such a scene. 

“ ‘ What is man, that thou art mindful of 
him ? ’ ” added Horace, thoughtfully, “ creature 
of an hour. How many thousands of years 
have those stars shone steadily in their places 
and on what changing generations of men have 
they looked down! Like that song of yours, 


136 


CROSS ROADS. 


4 Men may come and men may go, but they go 
on forever.’ 

“ Forever ! ” I repeated, “ we do not know 
what that means ; we can measure it a little by 
those stars, but that is only the beginning.” 

“ I cannot realize it,” returned Horace, “ I 
look upward and see the stars shining as they 
have done for countless centuries, I think of 
the millions of miles that separate us from 
them — we only think we see them — I think of 
the immense worlds they are and the possibil- 
ity that they contain millions of thinking, feel- 
ing beings, of the mighty power required to 
keep them ever rolling securely in their orbits 
— and my mind fails to grasp it. I am 
oppressed, weighed down by the effort; it 
seems as if my mind would burst in the vain 
attempt to take it in. And this power is the 
God that we worship ; we ask him for our daily 
bread, tell him our trifling cares. How little, 
how very little we realize the infinite greatness 
of God. We could not understand it if we 
would ; how seldom we try ! ” 

I drew a long breath. Oh, what worms we 
seem when we think of all this ! what are all 
the cares and even sorrows of earth in this 
light? A few years, a breath, a bubble and 
this life for us is all over. We must live 
forever beyond, and have only this moment 


COLLEGE PRANKS. 


137 


to prepare for eternity ; yet multitudes rush 
blindly on saying, ‘Time enough yet.’ ‘Be 
pitiful, O God.’ No wonder it is said ‘ an unde- 
yout astronomer is mad.’ I wish people 
would study astronomy more ; it might make 
them think of eternal things and send them 
to their Bibles. I was wondering if Frank 
ever had a serious thought. I wish I could 
get him to talk sensibly with me for once. 
He is so careless and unconcerned that he gives 
no one a chance to speak to him.” 

I suppose some would think this a strange 
conversation, following so gay a scene and 
near so gay a party, but I think we fell into 
it quite naturally. Our cutter was the only 
quiet one returning, however.. 

Dec. 31st. The last day of the old year; it is 
night and but one hour remains of 18 — . I sit 
alone in my room and as I look over the months 
that are past, and review their various, changeful 
scene, I can see how “ goodness and mercy ” have 
followed me all my days. I recall the weari- 
some winter, the anxious spring, the almost 
hopeless summer (ah ! unfaithful me ! ), and 
now turn to the bright autumn and happy win- 
ter and am deeply humbled. The dear Lord 
saw the end from the beginning and, while I 
was fretting and despairing, he was daily bring- 
ing me nearer to my desired haven. O weak 


138 


CROSS ROADS. 


and faithless heart, can’st thou not learn a les- 
son from this year’s teachings ? How rich I am 
in love and friends, how cheerful and happy 
compared to a year ago ! “ Rest in the Lord, 

and wait patiently for him.” 

Jan. 5th, 18 — . The New Year has come and I 
am back at school again after almost a month’s 
rest, counting in my two weeks’ sickness. I 
must make up for lost time. I am quite well again 
and should like to show my appreciation of all 
my friends’ kindness. Sadie was beaming with 
happiness, the other girls seemed pleased also, 
and — shall I confess it? — it does seem so good to 
be back in my room here and to mingle in the 
cheerful family life again. This evening we had 
music again, and remembering my thoughts 
about Frank and how susceptible he is to 
music I tried to persuade him to sing with 
me a religious, pathetic song, but he would 
not consent. “ Oh, give us something less dole- 
ful,” he cried, and chose instead a college glee. 
I cannot gain him so. Bessie says he has been 
very gay all the holidays. 

Jan. 15th. Alice Campbell has looked very 
sober for some days. She is so bright usually 
that one notices a cloud on her face instantly. 
To-day after school she was with me and looked 
so sad that I ventured to ask the reason. To 
my surprise her answer was a burst of tears. 


COLLEGE PRANKS. 


139 


By degrees I drew the story from her ; but 
slight comfort could I give. Her only brother, 
Ned, is one of the college students, a “fast 
youth ” by reputation, and he has proved his 
claim to the title. I have often seen him hang- 
ing about the hotel afternoons, or lounging on 
the corners with a cigar in his mouth, and not 
unfrequently has Frank Marshall been his com- 
panion. It appears from Alice’s story that a 
week ago Ned went on a sleighing party with 
some gay young men of his own stamp. They 
stopped frequently on the road for “ drinks ” and 
wound up by a supper at a hotel. Wine of 
course flowed freely and when the young men 
started to return they were unfit to control 
either themselves or their horses. They lost 
their way, abandoned horses and sleigh to their 
fate and sought a night’s lodging at a hotel not 
far distant. They were admitted but refused 
anything more to drink, the landlord saying 
“they had enough already.” For this speech 
the young men abused him and Ned Campbell 
threw a wine glass at his head cutting him se- 
verely. It is needless to go into further de- 
tails, The wild boys were lodged in a station 
house for the remainder of the night, and re- 
leased next day on bail but stand charged to ap- 
pear on two indictments, one a suit for dam- 


140 


CROSS ROADS. 


ages to the horse ancl sleigh, the other of assault 
and battery on the hotel-keeper. 

A sad story enough and I wondered not at 
Alice’s tears, but they were more of anger than 
sorrow. “ If he were not my brother I would 
say it served him right,” she declared. “ To 
act so shamefully, to disgrace himself and his 
family ; and it will be in all the papers. I’m 
ashamed to see an} r one, to think of my brother 
being arrested like any common loafer ! ” 

I hardly knew how to answer this view of 
the case. Alice continued, in shame and indig- 
nation, “ Father says they may put Ned in 
jail for it ; he won’t keep him out. If they do, 
I’ll never forgive him. I’ll never look any one 
in the face again ! O, Miss Alison, isn’t it too 
bad ! too shameful ! ” 

“ O Alice, don’t talk so about your own 
brother. It is indeed sorrowful enough; but 
perhaps this may stop his reckless course, and 
make him think of the sin and suffering such a 
course entails. Do you use your influence with 
him ? ” 

“I haven’t any influence with Ned,” she an- 
swered moodily. “He has never acted like a 
brother to me since I was quite a little girl. 
He goes his own way and you see where it 
leads him. I’d rather he were dead than bring 
this disgrace on us all,” she added passionately. 


COLLEGE PKANKS. 


141 


I was silent from sheer inability to find 
words to answer her ; lectures or reproof would 
be worse than useless just now and appeals to 
her gentler nature equally vain. If she had 
only gone to a wiser counselor ; some one who 
could have answered her better ! 

Jan. 17th. Ned Campbell forfeited his bail 
and was nowhere to be found when the trial 
came on. Every one says his father agreed to 
this course as the only way of saving his son 
and the family from worse disgrace. But what 
will become of him now — banished from home 
and friends, and every restraint removed ? I 
shudder to think what worse things may lie be- 
fore him. Alice says, “he is gone and I am 
glad of it,” but refuses to speak of him any 
more. Probably she thinks silence and Ned’s 
absence may cause these incidents to be forgot- 
ten. 

Frank is very quiet on the subject. 

“ So that is the end of one of your friends, 
Frank,” said Horace, sarcastically. 

“ One can’t be answerable for all one’s friends’ 
actions,” replied Frank, shortly. 

“ No, but one might choose them better, so as 
not to be ashamed of their acts.” 

“ Ned Campbell never was a friend of mine,” 
said Frank. “ I went with him because he was 
a classmate in college and I visited at his house ; 


142 


CROSS ROADS. 


but you know he was not a particular friend of 
mine, especially of late.” 

“ I do not know that your 1 particular friends ’ 
are much better, or will long be so, if you 
keep on in the way you have been going lately,” 
persisted Horace, who evidently intended to 
u speak his mind ” at this time. “ You are in 
the very place now that Ned Campbell was a 
year ago ; and unless you take warning from 
this, who knows where you may be a year 
hence ? ” 

“ In the state prison I suppose, if your cheer- 
ful predictions are correct,” replied Frank, 
bitterly. “ Many thanks, cousin Horace, for 
your kind opinion of me. I will do my best to 
deserve it.” He left the room as he spoke. 
Horace stood silent, tears were in Mrs. Chil- 
ton’s eyes, and my own heart throbbed pain- 
fully. Horace’s words were harsh but we all 
felt there was only too much truth in them. 
Still Frank is confident that he can stop when- 
ever he chooses, and very indignant at the idea 
that any such thing can ever happen to him. 
He does not “ get drunk,” he says. O, Frank, 
dear brother (for I can not help loving him as 
if he were my own, in spite of his faults) why 
can you not see that your own strength is 
worse than weakness? 

“ Mother why don’t you talk to him ? ” asked 


COLLEGE PRANKS. 


143 


Horace, presently. “ He will not let me speak, 
you see ; but surely your words would have 
some effect.” 

“ I have spoken to him,” said Mrs. Chilton, 
sadly, “ but it does not appear to do any good. 
He acknowledges that he is a 4 bad boy,’ says he 
4 does not deserve such a good auntie,’ but asserts 
that I need have no fear for him ; he only 
wants to have a little fun now ; all the fellows 
do while they are in college. He will be steady 
enough 'after a while.” 

Horace went off to his office, Mrs. Chilton 
went on with her work, tears falling from her 
eyes. I went over and knelt beside her and 
wound my arms round her waist. I wanted to 
tell her something. But instead of words 
I found her Bible and pointed to the passage : 
“ If two of you shall agree on earth as touch- 
ing any thing that they shall ask, it shall be 
done for them of my Father which is, in 
heaven.” “Let us agree, dear Mrs. Chilton,” 
I whispered. 44 1 love Frank as if he were my 
own brother, and perhaps we can save him, 
for there stands the promise.” 

Jan. 18th. A heavy storm raged all day and 
by night the roads were almost impassable with 
the drifting snow. The wind howled around 
the house and shook the windows. 44 A fearful 
night ” Horace said, and we were all glad to 


144 


CROSS ROADS. 


stay safely in doors. It was cheerful enough 
to render the contrast outside more striking. 
A bright fire blazed in the grate, and lit up 
every nook and corner of the room. The doc- 
tor in his wrapper and slippers was buried in 
his paper, declaring that nothing but a case of 
life and death could take him out that night. 
Mrs. Chilton sat by the table sewing and the 
young folks gathered around the piano. Hor- 
ace and Frank showed no sign of their recent 
encounter. Bessie was as pretty and gay as 
ever. We sang, laughed and jested and had a 
good time. A call came for the doctor, but 
Horace answered it saying he was the younger 
and could go better than his father ; so he 
went out into the storm with many cautions 
to “ take care of himself ” and expressions of 
commiseration. Somehow the evening dragged 
after he was gone. Doctor and Mrs. Chilton 
retired and Bessie soon followed their example. 
At the door she made a sweeping curtsey, and 
said : “ Mr. Marshall, I am much obliged to 

you for your company this evening and shall 
be pleased to have you call again — some time 
when it is too stormy to go out.” 

“ I accept your invitation with pleasure Miss 
Chilton,” he returned in the same tone, “ when 
you have no one else around, you can make 
your society very agreeable to me.” 


COLLEGE PRANKS. 


145 


“ Frank Marshall, I’ll box your ears for that as 
sure — ” She rushed at him to fulfill her threat 
without finishing the sentence. She succeeded 
but he returned the compliment by picking her 
up in his arms and Carrying her half way up- 
stairs, struggling and scolding in vain. He 
returned to the room flushed with victory and 
something more tangible, for Bessie was not 
too gentle in her reproofs. He sat down to re- 
cover his breath. Such a handsome young 
fellow he was, his bright curly hair tossed in 
disorder, eyes sparkling and cheeks glowing ; 
could it be that he would ever come to shame 
or sorrow ? 

44 O, Frank ! ” I exclaimed, half earnest, half 
jesting, 44 you can be such a nice fellow ; why 
won’t you always be good ? ” 

His face clouded a little. 44 Isabel, you heard 
what Horace said yesterday ; has he been 
teaching you his good opinion of me ? ” 

44 No Frank, I need no one to teach me what 
to think of you ; but the more one loves you, 
the more one wants you always to be right. 
Tell me truly, are you satisfied with yourself, 
Frank ? Are you willing always to be as you 
are now ? ” 

44 You take everything so seriously,” he an- 
swered, evading my question. 

44 Perhaps I do, but is not that better than 
10 


146 


CROSS ROADS. 


to go on without thinking at all until you find 
yourself in a snare from which you cannot es- 
cape? You didn’t answer my question, Frank.” 

“ I am tired of so many lectures,” he said, 
“ first from uncle and auntie, then Horace and 
now from you. Anyone would think I was as 
bad as Ned Campbell to hear you talk. I 
know what I am about and can take care of 
myself. You can spare me at any rate, you 
are younger — and ” 

He stopped but I finished the sentence for 
him. “ And it is none of my business you 
would say. Very well, I will say no more. I 
beg your pardon that I cared enough for you 
to say what I did.” 

I turned to go up-stairs more hurt than I 
cared to show. Perhaps it was none of my 
business and I should have let him alone ; but 
if I had not cared for him I would not have 
said a word. By the time I reached the first 
landing Frank was beside me. 

“ Isabel, forgive me,” he pleaded. “ I am 
ashamed of myself for answering you as I did. 
I don’t deserve that you should care for me ; 
but don’t give me up entirely.” 

“ I should not have said anything if I had 
not cared for you too much to see you go 
wrong,” I answered. 

“I know it,” he said, affectionately, “you 


COLLEGE PRANKS. 


147 


are a dear sister to me, and I ought to appreci- 
ate your kindness better than I do, but you’ll 
forgive me, won’t you ? ” 

Just then the hall door opened and Horace 
came in, so I retreated in haste to my own 
room. 

Ah, Frank ! for all your wilful ways one 
cannot help loving you ; and yet I don’t believe 
you deserve it. But there is my ‘ agreement ’ 
and the promise, so I leave this wild boy in 
better hands than mine. One loved him 
enough to give his life for him. He can care 
for this soul in danger. 


CHAPTER XII. 


UNDER THE SHADOW. 

Jan. 24th, 18 — . Mrs. Ramsay is very ill. 
Mr* Ramsay came to school looking pale and 
troubled. In reply to my questions, he said he 
had had no sleep for the last two nights. Some 
one is needed to help him, and as there seems 
no one else to volunteer I will go to-night. I 
am not experienced in nursing, but I can sit 
with Mrs. Ramsay while her husband gets some 
rest ; and I think common-sense and obedience 
to the doctor’s directions will do the rest. 

Jan. 25th. I found Mrs. Ramsay far more ill 
than I had expected ; she recognized me but 
lay in a stupor most of the time, only rousing 
when medicine was administered. I sat with 
her the early part of the night while Mr. R. 
lay down to rest in the next room. It was 
a strange experience for me — the quiet within 
and without, so deep that I started nervously 
at the sound of my own footsteps, the faint 
light that dimly outlined the objects around ; 
that pale quiet face on the pillow, so still it 

(H8) 


UNDER THE SHADOW. 


149 


hardly seemed to have life. I felt like one in 
a dream as 1 glided about to wait on her. 

Dr. Chilton came in again at ten o’clock. “ I 
am glad you are here, Isabel ; they need some 
one, but you must not sit up all night, child.” 

“ Mr. Ramsay takes half the night. Is she 
so very ill? ” 

“ She is a sick woman but we will do our 
best for her. He needs rest, too. I will come 
again in the morning. Take care of yourself 
too, Isabel.” 

Jan. 28th. It is all over. After three days 
and nights of anxious watchings, the end we 
had feared from the first came. Mrs. Ramsay 
died this morning at half-past two. I went 
again the second night but she did not know me 
and, unused as I am to death, I saw a look upon 
her face strangely unlike anything I had seen 
before. Mr. Ramsay did not appear to notice 
it ; poor man he was quite unnerved by anxiety 
and loss of rest. “ She looks better, don’t you 
think so ? ” he said to me, “ she has less fever and 
is more quiet.” 

“Yes, she is quieter,” I said, but I did not 
like that quietness ; it was too much as if she 
would sleep away and never awaken, her 
breathing at times was hardly perceptible. Yet 
through that night and the next day there was 
no change. Her mother came toward dusk, 


150 


CROSS ROADS. 


but fatigued by her long journey and unnerved 
by finding her daughter so very ill, we per- 
suaded her to lie down that night that she 
might be fresh in the morning ; but before the 
morning dawned watchers were no longer 
needed. 

Dr. Chilton was there until midnight. “ I do 
not like to leave you here, child,” he said as he 
was going, “yet I do not know what they would 
do without you. I will be here early in the 
morning, I do not think the end is very near.” 

But it was nearer than he thought. Mr. 
Ramsay had gone away for a few minutes when 
I saw such a strange, grayish look come over 
the sick woman’s still face that I was sure the 
end had come. I saw that look once on little 
Eddie’s face ; it is a look once seen never to be 
forgotten. A chill came over me and I fell on 
my knees beside the bed. Then I called, “ O, 
Mr. Ramsay ! come quick, she is dying ! ” 

He hastened in with a face as white as her 
own. “ Oh, it can’t be ! ” he groaned. “ O, Mary, 
don’t leave me ! ” and he took her pale, cold 
hand in his. “ Speak to me again,” he pleaded, 
“ just one word, Mary.” As if his voice had 
power to reach her even now, her eyes opened 
and rested on his face with a look of intelli- 
gence they had not worn before, a smile 
strangely sweet and solemn lit up her wasted 


UNDER THE SHADOW. 


151 


features, slie looked upward, her lips moved, but 
we could not catch the words, and with that 
smile she passed away. Oh, wondrous change, 
from death to life, from darkness to light, from 
struggle here to glory up yonder ! That smile 
so strangely sweet — was it not that she had a 
glimpse of those heavenly mansions she was so 
near ! I think so ; she saw something. When 
but one faint thread holds the soul to its clayey 
tabernacle and the gates of heaven stand open 
to admit the newcomer, cannot some ray of that 
glory shine down into this darkened world and 
light up the pathway to the other life? I 
believe it is even so. 

Jan. 29th. I passed a quiet Sabbath yester- 
day. Dr. Chilton took me home with him when 
he came and bade me rest all day. I was weary 
with loss of sleep and gladly obeyed his orders, 
by taking a long nap on the sofa while they 
were at church. Frank lounged into the room 
before dinner with a cigar in his mouth, which 
however he threw away when he saw me lying 
-on the sofa. 

“ You are pale, Isabel,” he said, gently 
smoothing the hair off my forehead. “ I don’t 
see why you must go nursing other people and 
wearing yourself out sitting up all night. I 
wonder that uncle let you stay.” 

“ He saw that someone was needed and I was 


152 


CROSS ROADS. 


the only one there,” I replied. “ Mrs. Ramsay 
is dead, Frank, I wish you could have seen the 
smile with which she passed away.” 

“ I have no such desire,” he answered quickly. 
“ Don’t talk about it Isabel, you ought not to 
have been there. Try and forget it.” 

“ No, I do not wish to forget it,” I replied, 
“it was a triumphant, glorious smile, Frank. 
We must all ‘be there ’ some day. Could you 
welcome death with such a smile as Mrs. 
Ramsay wore ? ” 

He made no answer, but stood stroking my 
hair for a minute or two and then left the room. 
At dinner time he was just as usual, though I 
fancied he avoided my eye, and he did not come 
again to talk to me. At evening I sat with Mrs. 
Chilton and Horace and we had a long, good 
talk. Death is not a word of terror to them ; 
rather the password to a brighter world above. 
Such talk does one good, I feel stronger and 
better after it. 

“ There is no death ; what seems so is transition ; 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 

Whose portal we call Death.” 

Feb. 3rd. I do not wonder that Peter wanted 
to stay up on the mountain all the time with 
his Lord. After being lifted above ordinary 


UNDER THE SHADOW. 


158 


earthly things for awhile it seems hard to come 
down again to petty cares and vexations. 
Those few days at Mrs. Ramsay’s dying bed 
made me feel for a time superior to daily 
worries ; but how quickly such influences lose 
their force when we are again exposed to daily 
life and cares. Mr. Ramsay came back to school 
to-day pale and very sad ; he cannot feel recon- 
ciled to his loss. “ It was so sudden,” he says ; 
yet I doubt if preparation would have made it 
easier. In every grief there is some “ if ” which 
one thinks makes the burden heavier. 

Miss Peck tires me very much ; indeed she 
"" made me very angry yesterday and I forgot my 
good resolutions and answered her sharply. 
She is really jealous of my favor with Mr. 
Ramsay. She thinks it “ very strange in a young 
girl to go and nurse a dying woman, almost a 
stranger, too. Mr. Ramsay would rather have 
had his own relations,” etc., etc. 

I overheard this talk and spoke out on the 
impulse of the moment, “ No doubt Mr. Ramsay 
would rather 4 have had his own relations but 
you know they are hundreds of miles away and 
her mother did not arrive until a few hours 
before Mrs. Ramsay’s death. Would you have 
had her go without attention until the mother 
came ? As for my nursing, I would willingly 
have yielded my post had any one older or more 


154 


CROSS ROADS. 


experienced offered.” Miss Peck colored at 
this cut, and I am afraid she will never for- 
give me. She said afterwards that I was very 
“ deep,” but “ she didn’t think it looked well 
for a young girl to be so eager in her services, 
especially at first. A man should have time to 
bury his wife at least.” 

How mean, how hateful a remark ! And poor 
Mrs. Ramsay hardly yet cold in her grave. 
Who would ever have thought of such a thing 
much less said it, but Miss Peck. I despise her 
remarks too much to pay any attention to them. 
If it does him any good to talk to me about his 
wife or little child I shall not check him for 
any word of hers. 

Feb. 15th. Mrs. Chilton called me as I was 
starting for school this morning to beg me to do 
an errand for her after school. It was to leave 
a basket at old “ Aunty Edwards’,” an old 
nurse in the family who has a little home not 
far from the college. Bessie is in the city for a 
visit ; Horace was there yesterday and says the 
old lady is poorly ; could I take this basket of 
good things for her ? 

It was a brilliant da}^ I got off rather early 
and started for my walk in good spirits. As I 
passed the college I saw Frank ; and a glance 
showed me that his companions were some of 
the fastest youths in the town. He joined me. 


UNDER THE SHADOW. 


155 


I asked him to accompany me and to my sur- 
prise he consented. I was only anxious to get 
him away from his associates. 

Aunty Edwards greeted us most cordially, 
“ It does me good to see your bright face, you 
are as gay as ever Mr. Frank, I see. Ah ! I hope 
it will be long before you have cause for sor- 
row. Oh, what a tease you used to be and how 
fond you were of my doughnuts. It was few 
of them I could keep in the cupboard when you 
were about.” 

“ He is just as bad now, Aunty, I had 
hard work to get that basket safely here, he 
wanted to drink your liniment, I think.” 

At this reminder she removed the contents 
of the basket, begging us to “ sit down and eat 
a bit,” but we declined as our dinner was wait- 
ing for us at home. Then Frank found that 
one of the windows was loose and set to work 
to secure it. He darted out to the wood-shed, 
and in a short time returned with two strips of 
wood to fit the cracks and keep out the wind. 
This little bit of carpentry took some time, but 
Frank went to work at it with such gay good 
humor that it was a pleasure to watch him. 
He is certainly the best-hearted fellow imagin- 
able ; it was a genuine pleasure to him to make 
that old woman comfortable. On our way 
home he amused himself by throwing snow- 


156 


CROSS ROADS. 


balls at the door knobs of the houses we passed, 
usually hitting the mark. In vain I begged 
him to behave himself and asked what people 
would think. “ He did not care what they 
thought ; their minds wanted waking up,” he 
said. “I’ll never take you walking with me 
again,” I declared, “you behave so badly. I 
shall lose all my reputation as a school-ma’am.” 

“I’ll be as good as pie now,” he declared, 
“ for we are coming where ‘folks’ live,” and we 
entered Main Street and walked decorously 
homeward. 

Feb. 18th. Bessie came home to-day, look- 
ing brighter and prettier than ever after two 
weeks’ absence. “ Two weeks ! it seems like 
two months ! ” said May, affectionately. The 
house is like another place when Bessie is in it. 
She is always dancing or singing about, teas- 
ing Frank or playing on the piano, gay young 
girls flying in and out to see her, or the college 
students walking in at all hours. She has a 
happy time. I do not see what she could have 
given to make her happier : a pleasant home, 
tender parents, a loving brother and sister and 
admiring friends, youth, health, beauty and 
high spirits — who would not have good times 
under such circumstances? What could make 
her lot sweeter ? She is one of the favored ones 
whom the sun shines on, clouds do not belong 


UNDER THE SHADOW. 


157 


to her horizon. Yet she is not a mere butterfly ; 
she has her serious moments. Her duties 
indeed are light enough but “A merry heart 
doeth good like a medicine.” We all miss her 
light when it is withdrawn, and welcome her 
back eagerly. If 'she performs no other work in 
the world than this it is a good office ; sun- 
beams are precious in this darkened world — not 
that I find it very dark just now. 

Feb. 22nd. Frank will get himself into 
trouble with his pranks some day. They are 
amusing to hear about, but if the college author- 
ities find him out he may not enjoy them so much. 
This morning was intensely cold, as it has been 
for some days. Frank came home late last 
night, was late at breakfast and judging by his 
movements promised to be late at chapel. 

“ Frank, why don’t you go ? ” asked Bessie. 
“ You will be late again if you linger around so ; 
do be off.” 

“The chapel bell has not rung yet,” said 
Frank, with a glimmer of fun in his eye. 

“ It must have rung and we not heard it. 
Look at the clock.” 

“I must be off at any rate,” I said. “You 
had better come with me, Frank.” 

Frank snatched his -.cap and came. “I rather 
think the old bell will not sound its call this 


158 


CROSS ROADS. 


morning,” he said, as we walked rapidly over 
the hard, frozen ground. 

“Now Frank, what have you been doing, you 
young scape-grace, stolen the clapper?” 

“ No, the clapper is there tight enough, no 
fear of its being stolen this morning.” 

“ Then what mischief have you been up to ? 
I know you are at the head of it.” 

“I was at the ‘head’ last night,” he said, 
chuckling over the remembrance. “ Two other 
fellows and myself climbed into the belfry when 
you good people were soundly snoring. We 
turned the old bell upside down, fastened it, 
and filled it with water to the brim. I rather 
think the clapper would have a pretty hard 
lump of ice to puH through this morning.” 

“Frank, are you not ashamed of yourself? 
Suppose you are found out.” 

“No danger of that. ‘We did it darkly at 
dead of night and we know how to keep our 
own counsel.” But I must leave you and see 
how affairs are progressing at the campus. 
Good-bye.” He hurried off looking as bright 
and handsome as possible, eyes and cheeks 
glowing in the fresh morning air, whistling 
gaily, “ It is better to laugh than be sighing.” 

Feb. 23rd. Sadie Ashmun is in distress 
about a boarding-place. Mr. Ramsay is giv- 
ing up house-keeping and going to board, and 


UNDER THE SHADOW. 


159 


this throws Sadie out of the home she has had 
in his family. Mrs. R.’s mother takes little 
Harry home with her. Poor man ! — wife, home 
and child all gone in one month. I do not 
wonder that he looks badly. He goes about 
with such a cloud on his face that it makes my 
heart ache to see him. How different from his 
former pleasant, genial ways ! Sometimes he 
will sit down and talk to me awhile after school. 
It seems as if my being with his wife when she 
died brings me nearer to him than any one else. 
He cannot submit to this dark dispensation, and 
says he cannot see the goodness in thus taking 
away from him all that made life pleasant. I 
fear I make a poor comforter, I feel so badly 
for him sometimes that I cannot say a word. I 
can only pray that he may be led out of this 
darkness, and I have hope ; for I know he prays 
for himself. Miss Peck is cold and snappish to 
me ever since that unlucky speech of mine. I 
fear I have lost all the ground I gained so hard- 
ly, by that hasty remark. It will be a lesson to 
me to watch my lips more closely hereafter. I 
must try again ; but it will be harder work now 
than it was at first, for she gives me no opening. 
I hope I may have patience enough ; it will 
take a good deal and Isabel Alison never was 
famous for that virtue. 

Feb. 25th. Dear Sadie, I wish she had some 


160 


CROSS ROADS. 


such happy home as I have found here. She is go- 
ing to Mrs. Crane’s boarding-house, a cheer- 
less life for a young girl. Mrs. C. is pleasant 
enough to her boarders doubtless and keeps a 
comfortable house, but there is no home feeling 
about it and Sadie is too young to stand by her- 
self. That step-mother of hers ! I feel so in- 
dignant to think how that woman’s selfishness 
and jealousy deprive Sadie of the home that 
should be hers. Sadie seldom mentions her; 
she is much happier than she was. 

“I am so glad you came here, dear Miss 
Alison,” she says, affectionately. “ You have 
done me so much good. My Saviour is very 
precious, and I might not have found him but 
for you.” 

Dear child, I believe she was one of Christ’s 
lambs before I ever saw her. He only permit- 
ted me to show her the fold, but I thank him 
greatly for this dear privilege. 

Feb. 26th. How strangely our life is made 
up of shadow and sunshine, joy and sorrow. At 
one time I record a scene of sickness, death 
and desolation, and in the next page perchance 
I have to tell of gay jests and lives untroubled 
by a cloud or a care. “ His ways are not as our 
ways.” We might think it unjust, perhaps, 
but he knows what is needed best. Some 
plants grow best in the shade, others need the 


UNDER THE SHADOW. 


161 


bright sunshine. Both rain and sun are 
needed to perfect the opening flower and ripen- 
ing fruit, and God knows how to give each in 
due season. The flowers in the shade bloom 
brighter by the contrast. Sadie’s is a more per- 
fectly developed character than Bessie’s. Mr. 
Ramsay, with all his darkness and struggles, 
shows a nobler mind than Frank. But who 
can tell what is before them ? Those two so 
bright and gay may see times as sad as any of 
which I write. God forbid it, yet I sometimes 
fear Frank will not be brought to the light with- 
out some bitter experiences ; he will not heed 
gentle warnings. 

Feb. 23rd. Last night was the most brilliant 
and beautiful moonlight. “ Come Isabel, let us 
take a walk,” said Horace, as he pushed back 
the curtains and looked out. “ It is too bright 
to stay in doors. Wrap up well and let us go 
out and enjoy it.” Howard Miller, who was 
spending the evening with us seconded the pro- 
posal ; so Bessie and I ran up-stairs, donned 
hoods and cloaks, and set out. Horace always 
grows speculative in the moonlight, but I was in 
dancing spirits and turned it all into nonsense. 

“ It takes summer moonlight to make me sen- 
timental,” I asserted. “ This night exhilarates 
me. I am like the horses in very cold weather ; 
you know how wild they get.” 

]i 


162 


CROSS ROADS. 


“ I can judge by you,” he returned, laughing. 
“You are as hard to keep properly 4 hitched ’ as 
any young colt.” 

“ What a grand night for a coasting frolic ! ” 
cried Bessie. The idea being seconded by the 
“ boys,” Howard soon succeeded in borrowing 
a couple of sleds, and we made our way to a 
rather steep hill just back of the college. How 
my girls would* have been shocked to see 
their dignified teacher coasting down hill on an 
old sled, holding fast to the one in front who 
steered ! It is years since I had such a frolic ; 
not since I was a child and begged my brother’s, 
sled for a ride down the hill. 

Horace entered into the spirit of the affair 
as I had not expected from him, laid aside his 
dignity, and was as great a boy as the rest. 
We came home at last, ravenous, and found 
Mrs. Chilton had foreseen such a result and 
was prepared for us with doughnuts, apples and 
hot lemonade ; “a country frolic.” 

Feb. 25th. It is one thing to play and 
another to stand the consequences. I expect I 
shall never hear the last of that escapade. Miss 
Peck found it out through the Millers and my 
reputation is gone in that quarter, I fear. “A 
gay, frivolous girl, coasting down hill like a 
great boy, to be the teacher in the Riverside 
Academy ! ” I can just see the look of holy 


UNDER THE SHADOW. 


163 


horror and solemn shake of the head with which 
it was said. “She had thought I had some dig- 
nity and sense of propriety — though I had 
shown little of the latter of late — but now ! ” 

Horace says she is not worth minding ; her 
unhappy disposition makes her unpleasant to 
everybody. No one appears to like her and I 
am sure she is not happy. “ Some people must 
be miserable, or they are not happy.” If they 
have nothing to make them uncomfortable they 
will contrive something themselves. 

“ A mill-stone and the human heart are driven ever round, 
If they have nothing else to grind, they must themselves 
he ground.” 

Feb. 28th. Sickness again. This time it is 
our little May ; dear child she is very delicate. 
A severe cold taken the other day has settled 
on her chest ; the doctor looks very anxious. 
They always watch her so carefully : they 
dread consumption for her, I think. She is the 
pet of the household, the youngest, and being 
always delicate and carefully guarded, seems 
even younger than she is. She is very different 
from Bessie, gentle and quiet in all her ways. 
We hardly know how much we would miss her 
about the house until we find her place empty. 
I hope it will not prove serious. 

March 8th. May is still very sick. I went 


164 


CROSS ROADS. 


in to see her to-day as usual before I went to 
school. It was with difficulty she spoke ; a 
hard cough checked her constantly while her 
eyes glittered with feverish brilliancy and her 
cheeks were hot and flushed. Mrs. Chilton 
looks troubled, the doctor and Horace stand 
and look at her as if they would give all they 
possess for the power to cure her: she is a 
great pet with them both. Bessie does not ap- 
pear to think that May is any worse than she 
has often been before. I hope she may be 
right, but fear the contrary. 

March 9th. A cold dreary day such as not 
unfrequently comes in this stormy month, with 
sharp, cutting winds and a dismal drizzle, half 
rain, half snow. I was chilled to the bone when 
I reached home this afternoon and stood by the 
fire trying to get warm when Horace came 
down stairs. He looked very grave and sad and 
stood so long leaning on the mantel without 
speaking that I saw something must be the 
matter and asked : 

“ Is May worse ? ” 

“ May is very sick,” he said, and his voice 
trembled. “ Dear child ! how can we give her 
up ? Our home circle has been unbroken till 
now.” 

“ O, Horace ! it isn’t so bad as that,” I 


UNDER THE SHADOW. 165 

cried as tears sprang to my own eyes. “ She 
will get well again, won’t she?” 

“ I cannot say ; I am afraid ” — and Horace 
Chilton’s dark eyes were dimmed with tears 
he was not ashamed for me to see, and his high 
head bent low on the marble mantel. 

We had a sad dinner and as night drew on and 
darkness shut us in, while those fierce winds 
howled without, we drew nearer the fire and sat 
sadly, almost silently around it. No music that 
night nor gay jests. Both Frank and Bessie 
were strangely quiet, and their voices trembled 
as they spoke of May. 

March 10th. I sit alone in my room writing. 
In another hour I am to go and relieve Mrs. 
Chilton who needs rest sadly. How silent and 
dark the house seems ! It has always been so 
joyous heretofore, but there is a hush and a 
shadow over it now as if the wings of the 
angel of Death hovered over the threshold. It 
is a wild night; the wfind rages around the 
house and rocks the tops of the tall pines by 
the gate, while ever and anon a shriek almost 
human in sound comes past my window. I am 
filled with sadness, and memory goes back and 
brings up similar scenes of long ago. I remem- 
ber my father’s death-bed and the passionate, 
rebellious grief which was then mine. I turn 
to that sad time at the parsonage when the blue 


166 


CROSS ROADS. 


light faded out of precious little Eddie’s sweet 
eyes. Even now I cannot recall that time 
without starting tears. Only a few weeks ago 
I stood by Mrs. Ramsay’s side and saw the 
triumphant smile with which she entered the 
valley of death ; and now our dear little May’s 
life hangs trembling in the balance — Who 
next? 

Ah ! heaven is peopling fast with loved ones. 
Is it not God’s way of linking us with that 
brighter world ? “ Where your treasure is, there 
will your heart be also.” Another sentence re- 
curs to me that I read the other day in a sweet 
book : “We know that this thread of our life will 
not always bear the strain, and the strands will 
in all probability part unevenly.” Must May 
go first, the sweetest, slightest, youngest of our 
band ? 0, Father, if it be thy will, spare her yet 

a while to those who so dearly love her! I 
must go now ; the hands of my clock point to 
the hour. What will be my next record here ? 

March 11th. The night passed on leaden 
wings, and morning found little change in that 
quiet sleeper. With a sad heart I left them 
and started for my day’s work at school, not 
knowing what tidings might reach me ere I 
came home. Frank did not go to college but 
stayed at home hanging around Bessie and try- 
ing to cheer her, while his own bright eyes were 


UNDER THE SHADOW. 


167 


filled with sad forebodings. I hardly thougnt 
he could develop such tenderness and thought- 
fulness as he has shown, but May is quite like 
a little sister to him. After dinner, as we sat 
around the fire again, with that strange stillness 
hanging over us, Horace came in, his face lit up 
with a tender, sweet smile that transformed his 
grave features. 

“ Thank God we will not lose her yet,” he 
said. “ There is a decided change for the better ; 
the worst is over now.” 

Bessie threw herself into his arms sobbing 
with sudden joy. I was scarcely better, for I 
had settled it in my heart that we must lose our 
little May, and’ the revulsion of feeling when 
hope came was too strong for my self-control. 
Horace held his sister fast for a little while and 
soothed her excited feelings, but his own eyes 
were wet with sympathetic joy ; then he gently 
released her saying, “ Let us thank God that he 
gives her back to us again.” We all knelt and 
Horace poured out our thanks and gratitude to 
the Lord in a voice that trembled with emotion ; 
we rose at the end, calmed and strengthened. 
So the dread shadow was lifted that time and 
the light of hope and love shed its gladness over 
the house once more. Thanks be unto God, in 
whose hands are the issues of life and death. 

March 17th. May gains strength but slowly. 


168 


CROSS ROADS. 


She sent for me to come and sing to her this 
evening. She was sitting up supported by- 
pillows, her face almost as white as they, but 
her eyes were as soft and dark as ever and her 
smile as sweet. 1 sang softly such songs as she 
likes best for a while, and it seemed to please 
her greatly. 

“ You are all so kind to me,” she said, as I 
bent to kiss her good-night, “ I was not afraid 
to die, but I am glad I am going to get well ; it 
is so nice to stay with you all a little longer.” 

“ Dear May, you do not know how glad we are 
to have you, you must get well quickly, we miss 
you at school,” I said, with starting tears. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


MIXED GOOD AND EVIL. 

March 19th. Frank did not come home last 
night. He was absent at breakfast and I did 
not see him until we gathered at the dinner 
table. Then a conversation ensued. 

“ Why didn’t you come home last night, 
Frank ? ” asked the doctor, rather sharply. 

“ I missed the last train, sir,” replied Frank, 
looking a little uneasy as the subject opened. 

“ I wish you would not go to the city so much, 
Frank,” said his aunt. “ Why cannot you spend 
your evenings here, like the others? Surely 
you might find sufficient sources of amusement.” 

Frank did not reply. Horace answered for him. 
“ There are no public places of amusement here, 
mother ; I suppose they are what drew Frank to 
town so often. If Riverside had so advanced 
as to possess a theatre or opera-house the 
students might be satisfied nearer home. 

Frank colored, and looked indignantly at 
Horace. “ I don’t think it is any great harm 
done,” he said, 41 all the other fellows go, and 
why shouldn’t I? It is only natural that we 

( 169 ) 


170 


CROSS ROADS. 


should want something gayer than this little 
place affords — especially if we can have it for an 
hour’s ride.” 

Mrs. Chilton looked sadly at Frank but made 
no reply, unless a sigh could be deemed such. 
The doctor asked, “ Where were you last 
night ? ” 

“ I went to see Booth in Hamlet,” avowed 
Frank. “Howard Miller and a couple of 
others were with me. We were too late for 
the eleven o’clock train and had to wait till 
twelve. Howard proposed we should have 
some oysters in the meanwhile, and they were 
long getting ready and — well, we forgot until 
it was too late for the midnight train also ; so 
we were obliged to stay in town all night. 
There is no great harm in it.” 

No more was said on the subject at this time, 
though it was evident Dr. Chilton was not sat- 
isfied. Dinner went on less cheerfully than 
usual. Afterwards Bessie told me that her 
father had a “ regular talk ” with Frank. He 
told him he was forming dangerous habits and 
evil associates, and that he could not permit 
such a course while the young man was under 
his authority. So Frank was forbidden to go 
into the city, unless he could return on an 
earlier train ; indeed his uncle would much 
prefer him to find his amusements at home. It 


MIXED GOOD AND EVIL. 


171 


is very rarely that Dr. Chilton asserts his 
authority ; so when he does it, the matter is a 
serious one. Frank was very quiet that even- 
ing. He did not go out, but sat reading most 
studiously. 

March 20th. It appears that Frank did not 
tell the whole story of that night in town. 
Alice Campbell asked me if it was true that 
some of the college students went to hear 
Booth and got so intoxicated that they could 
not come home. Miss Peck said so, and Alice, 
knowing Howard Miller to be one of' the party, 
suspected Frank of being in the company. I 
could not tell her, yet how could I deny it ? 
It may be true, but I cannot bear to think so. 
How can he go into temptation and expect to 
walk unharmed? O, Frank, Frank ! 

March 21st. This evening Bessie was out, 
and I waited for an opportunity to see Frank 
alone. He comes in earlier than usual. 

“ Frank,” I said, “ may I ask if you told the 
whole story about your missing the train the 
other night ? ” 

He flushed up in an instant. “ Isabel, what 
have you heard? who has been telling tales 
about me? ” 

“ Never mind who told me ; now, do you tell 
me how much to believe,” I answered. 

“ Let me know first what you have heard.” 


172 


CROSS ROADS. 


I told him Alice’s story as gently as possible. 

“ It is not true,” he exclaimed, his eyes 
flashing. “You ought to know me better 
than to believe such a story, Isabel. Whoever 
told it exaggerated the case, and if I could find 
out who it was it should be worse for them. I 
didn’t think you would be so willing to believe 
evil of me, Isabel.” 

“ Frank, I asked you, because I could not 
bear to believe it of you,” I said, earnestly. “ I 
am only too glad to have your denial. If you 
only would not give any occasion for such a 
story.” 

He drew away a little from my detaining 
hand. “ I could not help it if the others did 
take rather too much,” he said, uneasily. 
“ Howard was really a little overcome, and 
Jameson not much better ; but I assure you I 
was as sober as I am at this moment and so was 
Smith. We could have come home easily 
enough, any one of us, if we had not lost that 
last train.” 

So the story was half true after all ! I said 
not a word but Frank must have seen my feel- 
ing in my face. “ Now Isabel, don’t give me 
up in that fashion. I tell you I was all right ; 
you need not fear for me ” — and he made a 
great many promises and assertions of his own 
strength ; but I was not satisfied. 


MIXED GOOD AND EVIL. 


173 


“ If you will go with those ‘fellows,’ Frank, 
you will soon grow to like them, ‘ Evil commu- 
nications,’ you know. Oh, why won’t you take 
warning and give them up ? ” 

“ They are not bad, Isabel ; you judge too 
harshly. I know them better than you do.” 

“ I am sorry for it,” I said. 

Frank looked provoked. “ They are good- 
hearted fellows, a little too gay sometimes, I 
admit. I can leave them if I want to. Why 
won’t you believe I can do right ? ” 

“ I know that you can do right if you 
wish to,” I said, rather bitterly, “ the trouble is 
that you don't wish to. That is just it Frank.” 

“ If you think so,” he said evidently offended ; 
but he went no farther and I left him, feel- 
ing that I had done little good by my re- 
monstrance. I can do nothing for him but 
pray, and my heart is so heavy at times, 
I can hardly do that. Hard questions come 
into my mind. What good will my prayers 
do him, while I. know he resists them? “Ye 
will not come unto me, that ye might have 
life,” said the Lord, sadly, and again, “ How 
often would I have gathered you * * * but ye 
would not.” Yet, we cling to the promises. 
We have “ agreed,” and God has all power to 
subdue the most stubborn heart. Oh, for more 
faith to trust his word ! 


174 


CROSS ROADS. 


March 25th. May came down-stairs for the 
first time to-day. Horace carried her down 
wrapped in shawls and deposited her on the 
sofa. She looks wasted and delicate, but they 
say she is doing well ; she cannot recover at 
once, of course. The doctor says she must 
not stir out of doors all this month or next, if 
the weather is cold. They will guard her more 
carefully than ever now, and she needs it. 
Horace looked at her long and turned away 
with a sigh. “I wish it were the middle of 
May instead of March,” he said. I thought of 
her remark that she wanted to stay “ a little 
longer,” and echoed his sigh. 

March 29th. I always greet the spring with 
gladness, but it seems to me I never longed for 
it as I do this year. Mrs. Chilton looks pale 
and weary. May gains strength slowly, con- 
fined to the house, and my mother looks thin 
and complains of being tired. Oh, for a spell of 
bright sunshine, balmy air and soft breezes ! 
The trees hardly show a sign of life yet. Pa- 
tience, patience ! I do not feel very well my- 
self; perhaps that is the reason my records 
of late have rather a despondent tone. I have 
everything to make me happy, and I am so ; 
but this dull weather, sickness, etc., have rather 
depressed my spirits. I wish I were like Bessie ; 
she is ever gay and cheerful. Horace says to 


MIXED GOOD AND EVIL. 


175 


me, “ You have been working too hard and need 
rest.” I smile at the assertion ; my work here 
is pleasant. I could do twice as much while I 
feel that I am succeeding, and believe that others 
think so too. A little sunshine will put me all 
right again. 

March 31st. Frank has not been like him- 
self to me since our talk that night ; he avoids 
me, I think, yet he need not fear; I shall say no 
more. He has not stayed out so late since the 
doctor forbade it, but he is as much with 
Howard and his set as ever ; so I fear the 
warning has done no good. Mrs. Chilton’s in- 
fluence is equally ineffectual. “It does no 
good to talk to him,” she sighed the other day, 
as he drove off with Howard for an afternoon 
ride. “ I wish he would take warning and 
choose some other associates. Howard Miller 
is doing him no good. If Frank only had 
more strength of character ! ” 

Now I do not think it is strength that Frank 
lacks, but principle to apply it; he is firm 
enough in going his own way. 

April 7th. After nearly a month of bleak 
winds and cold, grey skies the sun appeared to- 
day. We rejoiced in the first patch of blue 
sky as if it were some rare and precious thing 
— as it was. The sunlight that glittered on 
the sullen river and shone against the sides 


176 


CROSS ROADS. 


of the house was pointed out as joyfully as a 
spring in. the desert. The wintry feeling had de- 
serted the air and it was like the first breath of 
spring. Horace took me for a drive in the 
afternoon. The woods we drove past were bare 
and leafless, but a sharp eye could detect the 
swelling buds on the maples, while the wind 
blowing in my face was gentle and almost warm, 
and the sky was a soft blue. 

44 You have never seen Riverside in its sum- 
mer dress,” said Horace. “ You are such a dear 
lover of Nature that I can promise you a rare 
treat. I have never seen a lovelier spot than 
this is in early summer, before the hot sun has 
parched the grass or dried the first freshness of 
the foliage. Those willow-trees by the river 
sweep the ground with their graceful branches, 
the horse-chestnuts are pyramids of white blos- 
soms, and peach, pear and apple-trees load the 
air with fragrance and beauty. I cannot de- 
scribe how the roses twine around the bay-win- 
dows, and the graceful wistaria drape the porches 
with violet clusters. The lawns are wonders 
of green velvet, and the whole scene is like a 
bit of fairy land.” Truly, 44 The lines are fallen 
unto me in pleasant places; yea, I have a 
goodly heritage.” 

April 13th. To-day as I came home I found 
a spray or two of the sweet-smelling trailing 


MIXED GOOD AND EVIL. 


177 


arbutus which I brought to May. Her eyes 
brightened at the delicately tinted blossoms and 
rich almond-like fragrance. Horace took her 
out riding to-day for the first time. She looks 
better but far too much like the flower herself. 
I mentioned the resemblance to Horace. 

“ Yes, it is like her,” he said. “ The small 
waxy flowers so delicately tinted with pink, hid- 
ing under their green leaves ; and yet when 
gathered disclosing such rare sweetness.” 

“ And Bessie is like nothing but a rose,” I 
cried carrying out the idea ; “ so sweet and 

fresh and always charming ; there cannot be 
two opinions about the Queen of flowers.” 

“ And what is Isabel ? ” asked Frank, saucily. 
“ After such a brace of compliments you can- 
not be so ungallant as to leave her out, Horace. 
I would try myself but feel quite unequal to 
the effort.” 

Horace laughed, but then said quite seri- 
ously : 

“I shall have to think before I answer that 
question. I want something more of the ripe- 
ness and perfection of summer for her ; some 
lily perhaps, rare and sweet and perfect of its 
kind.” 

Such a speech from Horace ! I flushed up, 
“a scarlet lily,” Frank said. What could have 
12 


178 


CROSS ROADS. 


induced Horace to make such a foolish speech ! 
It is so unlike him. 

April 15th. Bessie is eighteen years old to- 
day. How dignified, important and old we are 
then ! I think “eighteen is the oldest age there 
is.” Twenty does not compare to it; per- 
haps twenty-one will. I confess that looks to 
me like a serious time, although I do not ex- 
pect to come into possession of my fortune even 
then. The doctor gave Bessie an elegant 
watch, chain and pendants. “You always 
promised me a watch when I was eighteen,” 
said Bessie, throwing her arms round his neck 
and kissing him rapturously. 

In the evening there was quite a party at 
the doctor’s in honor of the event. “Every- 
body ” in Riverside, of the young folks, was 
there; Alice, of course, and Sadie also. Frank 
fluttered about all the girls like a gay butter- 
%. I am afraid the girls spoil Frank; they 
all show that they like him so well, and he is 
a handsome, charming young fellow. Bessie 
was a “rose ” then, if ever, in a pale pink dress, 
her golden hair in little curls and waves on her 
forehead, and her cheeks tinged with excitement 
and pleasure. We might well be proud of her 
beauty. I laughed at the thought of the “ lily,” 
as I saw my dark hair and eyes in the glass. I 
wore a cream-colored dress of soft wool, satin 


MIXED GOOD AND EVIL. 


179 


trimmings to match, my best dress for next 
summer, and felt well satisfied with it. If I 
am not a beauty, I am glad to feel that I am 
pleasant looking. We like our friends to be- 
lieve us handsome, even if we do not quite agree 
with them. 

We had a pleasant evening as we always do at 
any gathering here ; there is something in the at- 
mosphere of the house that makes every one at 
ease and the interest never flags, while the 
minor details are always perfect. Mrs. Chilton 
attends to that and enjoys her share of the 
evening’s entertainment as much as any one. 
The doctor looks in for a while, and the girls 
quarrel with each other as to who shall take 
him down to supper. Wine is never seen, but 
there is an abundance of everything good, with 
nothing to hurt any one ; and I do not think 
wine is missed, except in a good way. This was 
not at all a grand “ society affair,” but much 
more enjoyable — to my taste. 

April 20th. Riverside is looking beautifully 
now. The buds that were so slowly swelling 
for a week past have burst forth in all their 
freshness under the influence of the warm sun- 
shine of the last few days. The cherry and 
pear-trees are loaded with white blossoms, 
while some venturesome violets have opened 
their eyes in the garden, and the pert little 


180 


CROSS ROADS. 


crocus and stiff hyacinth stand erect as if they 
would say, “We are part of the spring ; the 
winter is over and gone 4 and the time of the 
singing of birds is come.’ ” 

The time for the discussion of spring apparel 
is at hand. Bessie declares that it is positively 
essential to her peace of mind that she has two 
new suits this season ; the old ones are entirely 
out of style, she has not a thing fit to wear 
next Sunday. 

“ Nothing to wear ! Go just as you are, 

Wear the dress you have on, and you’ll he by far, 

I’ll engage, the most bright and particular star 
On the Riverside horizon,” 

spouts Frank, who chances in at this time. 

“ Don’t talk nonsense, Frank, you know noth- 
ing about it,” says Bessie, earnestly. “ Come, 
mother dear, won’t you go in town with me to* 
day to choose them ? ” 

44 Don’t you think one will be enough now, 
daughter ? ” asks Mrs. Chilton, doubtfully. 
“You will need a new white dress so soon.” 

Bessie wants the white dress also and pouts 
at the prospect of refusal. 

“Mother, if you will consent to that request, 
I won’t ask for another thing.” 

44 Till the next time,” amended Frank, 44 you 
know you’ll be 4 dying ’ for a new white dress 
by next June.” 


MIXED GOOD AND EVIL. 181 

“Frank, if your college duties do not require 
your immediate presence they ought to,” retorted 
his pretty cousin. “There is the chapel bell 
now ! If there is one thing I am thankful for it 
is that bell. You must go when it rings.” 

Exit Frank with a provoking pull at one of 
Bessie’s little curls as he passes. I followed 
almost immediately, leaving Mrs. Chilton and 
her daughter to settle about the dresses. 
Frank’s “ college duties ” are not very burden- 
some ; I never saw any one give less attention 
to study than he does. I cannot see how he 
manages to get through his recitations ; and I 
am sure he is late at chapel half the time, to 
say the least: 

“ I have a friend who answers for me if I 
am absent,” he says in reply to my questions. 
“ And I know the fellow that keeps the score.” 

“ How does that help you ? ” I ask innocently. 

“ Well, if I am late too often in one week I 
go to Hardy and say, ‘ Old boy where is that 
class list of yours ? I want to see something.’ 
‘It’s against regulations to show it,’ replies 
Hardy, placing his hand significantly on the 
pocket in his coat. I slip up behind him while 
he kindly looks another way, get it out of his 
pocket, cross out any extra marks against F. 
Marshall, and go on my way rejoicing.” 

“I don’t know what your professors are 


182 


CROSS ROADS. 


thinking of,” I say, indignantly. “ You couldn’t 
do that in my school.” 

“ They are thinking of their salaries, or cal- 
culating the next eclipse of the moon or the 
square of the hypothenuse,” replies Frank, 
coolly. “ You can’t expect them to bring their 
minds down to such trifles. We are all gentle- 
men and do the correct thing intuitively up 
there ; at least the professors say so, and they 
ought to know.” 

I muse on the different constitution of the 
male and female mind ; why is it that girls have 
so much more conscience than boys — about 
some things ? I should think such proceedings 
very dishonorable and be ashamed to tell them ; 
but I notice the students consider them good 
jokes. I wonder if Horace ever did so. I do 
not believe it. 

May 1st. Mother is not in her usual health 
this spring. She looks pale and complains of 
feeling tired all the time ; her household duties 
are too much for her. I help her all I can, the 
two days I am at home, but that only lifts the 
burden a very little. She wishes we could 
have a little home of our own in Riverside. I 
blush to think I hardly echo the wish. 

May Tth. Our May came back to school to- 
day. She was welcomed with open arms ; she is 
a general favorite and has been greatly missed. 


MIXED GOOD AND EVIL. 


183 


It is . pleasant to see her about again ; she 
appears quite herself but still looks delicate. 
She must not study too hard. 

May 17th. I have had so much sewing to 
do for myself, so much teaching, riding, etc., 
for the last few weeks that I cannot find time 
to write much. This is the pleasantest spring 
I have ever known. I enjoyed last fall, but I 
find the spring pleasanter still. There is so 
much life and freshness around ; everything is 
“ made over new,” and I feel as if I had just been 
“ made over ” myself. I have some little wor- 
ries' at school ; the girls are careless at times 
and dull, and Miss Peck is as “ affectionate ! ” as 
ever ; but these troubles all vanish as soon as I 
get out in the May sunshine. Under such blue 
skies and spreading trees it is impossible to 
harbor hard thoughts. Hope and happiness 
come to me on the sweet-scented air, and I 
breathe them in with the odor of lilacs and 
hyacinths. I think I was made to live in such 
a place as this \ I can be purer and better in this 
out-of-door world than in the busy, bustling city. 

“When beautiful flowers impart their perfume, 

And sweet is their fragrance and lovely their bloom, 

I think of the summer that endlessly glows, 

And the un wasting-fragrance of Sharon’s sweet rose.” 

I sang these words softly as I stood on the 


184 


CROSS ROADS. 


porch before tea, twining a climbing rose around 
one of the pillars. Horace came up the steps 
as I stood there. 

“ Your song is a companion to one that has 
been ringing in my brain all the afternoon,” he 
said, gathering a blush rose-bud, as he spoke, to 
fasten in my hair. 

“If God has made this world so fair 
Where sin and death abound, 

How beautiful beyond compare 
Will Paradise be found ! ” 

“Take sin and suffering out of this world 
and what could man wish fairer ? Will you 
take a ride with me after supper ? It will be 
moonlight early.” 

Of course I said, yes. 

June 7th. The weeks of this early happy 
summer are speeding swiftly by ; in three more 
school will close and our summer vacation com- 
mence. I cannot say that I am as anxious for 
it as most of the girls are. Of course I shall 
like to be with mother and Katie and be glad 
to help them, but I hate to leave Riverside in 
its summer beauty for the city ; and two 
months seem a long time. I should be ungrate- 
ful if I did not dislike to leave my kind friends 
here, even if it be to go home. Sadie will also 
go home for her vacation ; she does not expect 
much pleasure but says “ home is as good as 


MIXED GOOD AND EVIL. 


185 


Mrs. Crane’s; and you will let me come and see 
you very often, won’t you?” Dear child, she 
knows that she is always welcome ; she has 
taught me as much as I ever taught her. How 
beautifully her Christian character ripens. I 
cannot believe her step-mother will be insensi- 
ble to it. 


CHAPTER XIV, 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 

June 12th. Mrs. Chilton had a long talk 
with me this afternoon and made a proposition 
to me for which I was not prepared. 

“The doctor wants May to go to the sea- 
shore,” said my dear friend, “ and of course I 
must go with her. Your vacation begins in a 
couple of weeks and I have thought (if it is not 
asking too much, my dear child) how pleasant it 
would be for us. all if you could stay with 
Bessie while we were away. She will want 
company, and she is so gay and thoughtless I 
should feel better satisfied to know that your 
soberer head was here to help her. Of course 
I could not ask you to leave your mother and 
sister ; but would not a little change do them 
good also ? It would give me a great deal of 
pleasure to have them both here. I am only 
sorry I cannot be with them. Cannot you per- 
suade them to do me this favor?” A ‘favor’ 
which she knows will be a great pleasure to me 
— and so while doing a kindness she makes it 
appear that she is the recipient. 

( 186 ) 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 


187 


This is just what mother needs ; I hope she 
will consent. She might do it this summer ; the 
Armstrongs are going away in July and only 
Mr. Benson will be left. Mother could give up 
the house for the summer, she ought to do it. 

June 15th. Mother consents to half of the 
plan. I must stay at Riverside she says ; after 
all their kindness to me I must do what I can 
for them, but she will not come. She wants to 
go to Hallam and stay awhile with Margaret 
this summer, and now that I am not coming 
home she can easily do so. Katie will go with 
her. Katie could not leave mother for a week, 
I believe. It is a pleasant arrangement. Allan 
and Margaret have wanted her to come for so 
long, and that will be more of a change than 
coming to Riverside. How she will delight in 
little Maggie and the baby ! for Maggie is over 
three now and a little Charley fills the cradle. 
I would love dearly to see them all myself. 
Mrs. Chilton regrets that mother will not come, 
but is glad to have me stay; and she says 
mother and Katie shall come some time when 
she is at home and that will be better. Bessie 
exults over the arrangement. 

44 We shall have the most delightful time ! ” 
she says. 44 If Frank does not behave, we will 
send him away to his father’s ; papa is under 
very good control, and we shall have no trouble 


188 


CROSS ROADS. 


with him, and as for Horace I shall leave him 
to your management entirely/’ 

Horace says nothing ; I wonder if he is really 
indifferent as to whether I go or stay. 

June 16th. Mrs. Chilton said something 
to-day about her “ three daughters,” with an 
affectionate smile at me. Horace must needs 
hear it and give me a look from his dark eyes 
that made me flush crimson. How hateful it 
is to blush so ! he knew I would, and I believe 
he did it on purpose. She is indeed kind and 
“ motherly ” to me, but I never dare say so. 

June 28th. Two busy weeks are over; the 
examination is finished and school closed until 
September. The rest of vacation will be very 
grateful to me ; I have worked pretty hard of 
late. I have not cared to touch a piano for the 
last month, I have had so much of it at school 
drilling the girls. After all they did very well. 
Mr. Ramsay complimented me highly and 
renewed my engagement for next year, with 
many kind expressions of his satisfaction and 
regard. Miss Peck looked blacker than ever, 
but I did not appear to notice it and persisted 
in being amiable ; I believe that is the best way 
to get along with her — and then let her alone. 

Horace says, “We are very glad to keep you 
here and much indebted to you for remaining. 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 189 

I hope our pleasure is not a disappointment to 
you.” 

“ Oh, not at all,” I reply, “ I feel as if I had 
two homes, and it is very pleasant for me to 
stay here,” and could bite my tongue off the 
next moment for saying as much. 

“ I hope it may be your home forever,” he 
says, with that peculiar expression of his that 
makes me rush off in hot haste. 

June 30th. Mrs. Chilton and May left 
to-day ; mother and Katie go to Hallam 
to-morrow : it seems lonely without them. I 
make Bessie pour out the tea and insist that 
she is “ the lady of the house,” and I her “ confi- 
dential friend.” The two doctors take it very 
philosophically, but I think Bessie’s reign will 
be an absolute monarchy or, as Frank says, “ a 
military despotism.” Fie declares he cannot 
stand it and is going away next week. Bessie 
says he always goes to his father’s in the 
holidays. He visits at his father’s, but is at 
home here. Mrs- Chilton is his mother’s only 
sister and has had the care of Frank ever since 
his mother’s death, when he was quite a child. 
He has never lived at home since, and his father 
seems more like his uncle than does Dr. 
Chilton. It is strange the positions are so 
reversed. Frank’s half sisters are like cousins, 
and Bessie and May like sisters to him. The 


190 


CROSS ROADS. 


first Mrs. Marshall left some property, and when 
her husband married again he settled it all on 
Frank and left him still in his aunt’s care. So 
Frank will have something when he is of age. 
I do not believe he will study any profession ; 
he does not study anything that I can see. Yet 
he passed the examinations creditably (I am 
sure I can’t see how), and will be a senior 
next year. 

July 5th. We had a picnic to celebrate the 
national birthday yesterday. About a dozen 
young folks from Riverside and the city went 
in carriages to a grove some miles distant on the 
banks of the river, a lovely spot. I went in 
Horace’s buggy ; Bessie, Frank and the Jame- 
sons in a double wagon, while Howard and Ella 
Miller, Sadie and Alice took Mr. Campbell’s 
carriage. It was a gay party, a lovely day, and 
games, walks, music and refreshments, made 
the time pass swiftly and pleasantly to all. 

It had rather more than that for me however, 
for as we alighted at the grounds I spied a 
face and figure strangely familiar, although 
more than two years had passed since I saw it. 
It was Robert Howland. There was the same 
old deferential air and easy politeness. His 
incipient mustache had grown considerably 
and was strengthened by side whiskers, yet it 
was surely he. Just then he turned and our 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 191 

eyes met. He started forward. “ Isabel ! 
Miss Alison,” he exclaimed, with extended hand. 
“ Is it possible that I see you again ? ” 

“Very possible,” I replied, as I met his 
advance half way. 

“ Mr. Kendrick told me you were at River- 
side; but I never thought of this being the 
place until this moment,” he replied, “ I need 
not ask how you are$ for you are looking — but 
I remember you are a sworn foe to compliments, 
so I dare not tell you how you look.” 

He had not lost his old, flattering way. To 
change the subject I turned and presented him 
to Horace, who was standing beside me. The 
two young men shook hands, rather stiffly I 
thought, at least on Horace’s side, and he did 
not say, “ I am happy to meet you,” as Robert 
politely did. Robert had just come from Hal- 
lam, and of course I had no end of questions 
to ask. Soon Horace excused himself, saying 
that he saw I had a good deal to say to my old 
friend, and he would not intrude. He went 
away and Robert took complete possession of 
me for the rest of the day. I did not think 
Horace had meant that, but found myself un- 
able to prevent it, and Robert’s attentions had 
lost none of their old flattering air, although 
he did not express it in words ; “ he remembered 
my prejudice,” he said. 


192 


CROSS ROADS. 


I found he had come with one of the young 
ladies from the city, who was his cousin. He 
paid her but slight attention, but she was well 
entertained by others and did not appear to 
miss him. 

Before we parted Robert begged permission 
to call the next day, and when afternoon came 
he appeared in a buggy saying it was such a 
lovely day he hoped I would take a short drive 
with him in memory of old times. I could 
not well refuse, though not over-pleased at 
the prospect of a tete-a-tete. The ‘ short drive * 
proved a long one under his management. The 
evening shadows fell softly over the hill-tops, 
the sun went down in a blaze of glory, and the 
river road was passing fair. 

More gravely than he had spoken yet Robert 
asked if I remembered our last drive together, 
over two years ago? I did, only too well. 

“ I startled you by certain words of mine 
then,” he said, “ and a future conversation was 
not more satisfactory. I have often wanted 
since to thank you for your words. I was then 
almost an infidel. I had read, speculated, and 
indulged myself in fanciful theories until I had 
come to regard the whole subject of salvation as 
a mere field for .theory and critical inquiry. I 
had lost sight of its supreme importance to me 
individually. Your words aroused me some- 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 


193 


wliat. ‘ It won’t do to theorize about this,’ 
you said, and then, Isabel, those tears of yours 
touched ine more than any argument or appeal 
you could have made. I had been over that 
ground in argument, but those tears were real, 
earnest, convincing ; they brought me face to 
face with truth, and the more I thought, the 
more I saw my folly. They were the wedge 
by which truth entered my mind. If I see a 
promise of immortality now, Isabel, if I have a 
hope in a heaven hereafter, it is because you 
pointed it out to me.” 

I could not find words to answer him at first ; 
I know not what I did say at last. How often 
had I thought of him and wondered if he had 
any higher hopes now ! how often — at first — I 
had prayed for him, not thinking I should ever 
know if my prayers were answered ! and now 
how beautifully came the fulfilment. “ Glory 
to God in the highest.” He can use the feeblest 
means to the highest ends. I forgave Robert 
for carrying me off in such imperious fashion ; 
it was worth much to hear this ; and the . re- 
mainder of the drive was more than pleasant. 

“ You went away from Hallam, too soon,” 
he said once, “ you might have made anything 
of me you pleased, if you had stayed a little 
longer.” 

“ I did not want to make anything of you,” 

13 


194 


CROSS ROADS. 


I answered lightly (as of old I did not know if 
he was jesting or earnest), “ or rather (more seri- 
ously) a higher hand than mine can carve your 
destiny. My work was done — and blessed far 
beyond my desert.” 

He made no reply. When he spoke again it 
was to ask rather irrelevantly, “ Is that Dr. 
Chilton a particular friend of yours ? ” 

“ His family are my best friends ; they took 
me to their house when I first came to River- 
side, and it has been a home to me ever since,” 
I replied, evasively. Upon which he praised 
Bessie’s beauty, and, in the midst of such talk, 
we arrived at the house. 

Horace has been very cool to me since the 
picnic. I suppose he was offended at Robert’s 
monopoly of me ; but he might have seen that 
I could not help it. It is not my place to apol- 
ogize ; so I shall just let him alone till he comes 
to himself. 


CHAPTER XV. 


SUNSHINE. 

July 8th. Frank left us this morning. The 
house seems strangely quiet. There are only 
the Doctor, Horace, Bessie and I left, for Mary 
Ann has gone on a week’s holiday also. Bessie 
and I are distinguishing ourselves in the kitchen. 
We got the dinner to-day and baked bread, 
cake, and pies. I made the bread, but Bessie’s 
cake and pies held possession of the oven until 
it was too light. As Horace remarked, “ If the 
holes had been much larger there would not 
have been bread enough to go round them.” 
Nevertheless our cooking was not to be despised, 
and our two men ate their meals with a good 
relish. They were quite surprised to find that 
I was so well versed in kitchen affairs; they 
do not know of my apprenticeship last summer 
and before, so everything comes in use some- 
time. 

July 12th. At the supper table to-night the 
Doctor handed Horace a foreign looking letter, 
saying quietly, “ From Rio Janeiro.” 

“ From Uncle Edward ! ” exclaimed Bessie, 

( 195 ) 


196 


CROSS ROADS. 


springing up. “ What does he say, Horace, 
what is it about ? ” 

“ I can tell you better when I know myself,” 
said her brother, quietly, as he broke the seal. 
But he did not tell her ; instead he read it 
through, laid it beside his plate and drank his 
tea, looking very grave. 

“ Horace, it is your delight to keep me in sus- 
pense,” declared Bessie, with a pout of her 
cherry lips. “ What does Uncle Edward say ? 
and why does he write to you instead of to 
papa ? ” 

“ Because his business is with me, I suppose,” 
returned Horace, very quietly, yet with a strange 
expression on his face that arrested my atten- 
tion. “ He wants me to come out to him — 
there is an excellent opening there, and ” 

“ Horace Chilton, what nonsense ! You 
would not think of such a thing ! ” cried Bessie, 
in alarm. “ You are only teasing me, I know.” 

“ Horace ! ” said the Doctor, inquiringly. 

“I do not know but it might be the best 
thing I could do,” replied Horace, answering 
Bessie, but looking straight at me as he spoke. 

“ My son, this is a new idea,” said his father, 
gravely. I rose and left the room. This was 
a family matter to be discussed in private — yet 
was not I as much interested as any of the 
family ? 


SUNSHINE. 


197 


I went into the parlor and sat down at the 
piano, while my hands wandered idly up and 
down the keys. Why had Horace been so cool 
to me lately ? and why did he wish to go to 
South America ? I did not like to confess how 
sharp a pang the prospect gave me. The even- 
ing shadows darkened, the wind swayed the 
sweet-brier at the window and stole in laden 
with its odorous breath, the crickets chirped 
shrilly out amidst the grass, and a melancholy 
whip-poor-will sounded faintly in the distance. 
The door opened softly and Horace came to the 
piano. He leaned against it but did not speak, 
and I played on mechanically for a few mq- 
ments. 

“ Isabel, stop a minute,” he said at last, husk- 
ily. “ It is for you to decide. I cannot stay 
at home unless you will stay with me. What 
shall I do?” 

I turned toward him. “ O, Horace, don’t 
go,” I whispered. 

It was not very dignified, but I think neither 
of us thought of that just then ; indeed Hor- 
ace appeared quite satisfied with my answer, to 
judge by his actions. 

Time passed unheeded, until a few moon- 
beams fell upon the floor and looked in upon 
us. Horace drew me out upon the porch. The 
fairest sky I had ever seen stretched above me, 


198 


CROSS ROADS. 


studded with bright stars, and the faint crescent 
of the moon was just retiring beyond the 
hills. 

Horace’s thought must have been like mine, 
for he said. “ I have always loved the beauty of 
night and him who created it, but never so 
much as I do to-night, now that he has given 
me this best and most precious gift.” 

My cup of earthly happiness sparkles to the 
brim. His hand has filled it. “ Surely goodness 
and mercy shall follow me all the days of my 
life.” “ What shall I render unto the Lord for 
all his benefits toward me ? ” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


ECLIPSE. 

Aug. 20th. Was it Isabel Alison who 
wrote those last lines? and if so is this pale, 
heavy-eyed creature reflected in yonder mir- 
ror the same girl who wrote so joyously of 
love, rest and happiness ? Can it be possible 
that was only six weeks ago? Surely those 
experiences must have come to some other creat- 
ure ages ago, in some other state of existence, 
I feel so far removed from anything of the 
kind. I have not written, I could not write 
before. But let me put it all down calmly 
now, that I may understand it fully. Was I 
to blame ? what else could I do ? Three days 
of happiness were mine, but I dare not think 
of them now ; some time it may perhaps be 
pleasant to recall them, but now I cannot bear 
it. On the fourth day I received a telegram, as 
I sat with Horace in the parlor. Like all such 
dispatches it was brief and bitter. “ Railroad 
accident at Wareham, mother is hurt. Come 
at once.” 

I took it all in at a glance; the railroad 

( 199 ) 


200 


CROSS ROADS. 


accident, the suffering, ghastly victims, mother 
and Katie on their way home from Hal- 
lam. What else? The paper fell from my 
hands. I turned toward the door only con- 
scious that I wanted to go away somewhere by 
myself, but Horace saw my face and caught me 
in his arms. “ Isabel, dearest, what is it? Let 
me share your troubles. No, you shall not go 
away to cry your heart out alone,” he added, as 
I tried to break from him. 

That touch and tone were enough, and I 
clung to him, weeping passionately. He placed 
me on the sofa and stooped to pick up the slip 
of paper that had made such a sudden change ; 
then drew me to him ag\ 'n and soothed me, Oh, 
how tenderly, how gently ! 

“ This is indeed sad news, my darling,” he 
said, when I had grown somewhat calmer. “ But 
you must not give way, it may be far less seri- 
ous than you fear. Do not waste your strength 
now ; you will need it for your journey.” 

He had touched the right chord. I controlled 
my tears and was ready for action. “ There 
are three hours yet before the train leaves for 
Wareham, I will send Bessie to help you get 
ready.” 

But he did not go away then, nor did he let 
me go until I was calm and ready to put aside 
my fears as much as possible. 


ECLIPSE. 


201 


“It is the Lord, and we know he does not 
willingly afflict nor grieve his children ; dear 
Belle, cannot you trust him with your loved 
ones? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” I sobbed, “ but this seems so 
dreadful ! And the suspense ! Why didn’t 
they tell me more ? ” 

“It is hard,” he said, “ dear child, I wish I 
could bear it for you. Do not think me cold or 
unsympathizing because I counsel you to be 
calm. Let us leave even this trouble with our 
Saviour. He careth for you, he can comfort you 
better than I can.” 

The rest is like a dream : Bessie’s tearful face 
and sympathizing words, the doctor’s warm 
clasp of the hand, the hurried packing, during 
which Bessie’s tears fell fast while I was calm, 
the quick drive to the depot, and the shrill 
whistle of the locomotive as we rushed out of 
the town. It was night before we reached 
Wareham, and in all that long and anxious 
journey Horace’s care and tender sympathy 
were unceasing. He did not talk to me much ; 
but when he did speak, he uttered words of 
strength and comfort. 

At the close of the long July day we alighted 
on the platform at Wareham. Allan Kendrick 
was waiting for me. “ Mother ? ” was all that 
I could say, as my eager eyes met his. 


202 


CROSS ROADS. 


“ She is a little better,” he said, kindly, “ she 
is looking for you, and Katie is unhurt.” 

So she was living ! An icy band melted from 
my heart at these words and I burst into nerv- 
ous, uncontrollable tears. Horace and Allan 
put me in the carriage, and when I regained my 
self-control I found they had made each other’s 
acquaintance without my aid, and Allan was 
relating the particulars of the accident to Hor- 
ace. It was the old story, a misplaced switch, 
a high embankment, “ nobody to blame,” and 
fair lives suddenly cut short and strong arms 
and heads made powerless and shattered. 

All was quiet in the hotel to which they 
brought me. Katie threw herself weeping into 
my arms, unbruised. I was quiet enough now 
and went into the room to find mother in bed, 
pale and weak indeed, but able to speak and 
welcome me. Horace insisted that I should 
rest that night while Allan and he watched. 
In the morning I took my post. 

Two or three days passed in that still, dark- 
ened room ; the doctor enjoined perfect quiet 
and mother could not bear to have me leave 
her. I saw little of Horace. On the third day 
he was obliged to leave me. 

“ Your mother is not in immediate danger or 
I would not leave you even for this summons,” 
he said. “ I will be here again in a few days. 


ECLIPSE. 


203 


Take care of yourself — for me — I shall not feel 
easy until I see you again.” 

Mother was not “ in immediate danger,” as 
Horace had said ; but still she was so weak and 
nervous, clinging to me like a child, trembling 
at every strange sound, helpless and unlike 
herself, that I could not leave her room. 

I followed the doctor one day and asked him 
to tell me plainly what he thought of her case. 
He saw I meant what I said and told me. 
“ There is no external injury, no one organ dis- 
abled,” he said, “ but the whole nervous system 
has received a terrible shock, and I fear she 
will never be herself again. She must have 
perfect quiet, nothing to worry her, and the 
gentlest care, which I see you can give her. 
Take her away from the hotel as soon as she 
can be moved, to some quiet, country place ; 
give her rest of body and mind and she may in 
time recover, but active exertion of any kind 
is, I fear, over with her forever.” 

As well might he have said, “ Take her to the 
moon,” I thought. How was I to do it, and who 
was there to help me ? Not Allan for his own 
family taxed his resources to the utmost, and 
neither he nor Margaret were her own children. 
Katie, young, delicate and dependent, was only 
another to care for. I could not lay such a 


204 


CROSS ROADS. 


burden on Horace, even if he were willing to 
accept it ; it would not be right. 

The night wore slowly and silently away 
while I “ watched the stars out by the bed of 
pain ; ” a night of sore conflict for me. 

How could I give up the new hope that had 
brightened my future so gloriously for one 
short week? I drew Horace’s letter from my 
pocket ; it repeated his words at parting, “ Take 
care of yourself — for me — You are mine now 
Isabel. Do not forget it.” 

Oh, that I might forget it ! “I cannot, can- 
not do it,” I cried almost aloud, in my anguish, 
but even as I said the words I knew that I must 
do it — there was no one else. I could do it and 
no one need ever know of my sacrifice, my 
hopes had been so brief. 

The morning dawned at last, the pale sun- 
beams fell with a sickly light on the floor ; the 
battle was over and I was decided. I knew 
what I had to do and I only could do it. Love 
and hope were buried, and duty and silence 
stood coldly by their graves. 

“ If it were done. . . then ’t were well it were 
done quickly.” 

I wrote to Horace in the morning. I do not 
know what I said, but it brought him to me the 
next day. With a silent prayer for strength I 
went down to him. 


ECLIPSE. 


205 


My heart sank at the tenderness of his greet- 
ing, but I suffered it, for I thought, “ It is the 
last time.” 

“ I ought to scold you for that letter. Did 
you think I would let you sacrifice yourself 
and me ? ” he asked. 

44 1 cannot help it. 44 O, Horace don’t make it 
harder,” I begged. 

44 You are mine now,” he answered, 44 and we 
will bear our burdens together. I did not look 
for an unshaded life, although the shadows 
have come somewhat sooner than I expected. 
You cannot bear this trouble alone, dear, let me 
help you in this unforeseen care which is laid 
upon you. Your mother and sister shall be 
mine also.” 

It was what I expected from him, but I knew 
it could not be. Horace has his own way to 
make in the world, and it may be years before 
his profession will enable him to support a 
family. Had I been alone he might have taken 
me to his father’s house. I knew how welcome 
I would be ; but I could not charge him with 
my mother and sister, and I could not leave 
them. I had told him this in my letter, but I 
had to say it again. Even if he were able, I 
knew mother would never consent to be a bur- 
den on him. 

44 She does not know,” I said, at last, 44 nobody 


206 


CROSS ROADS. 


knows. It is no fault of yours or mine, but it 
must be. God has given me this work to do 
and you cannot help me. Be my friend again, 
my brother, and forget this week.” 

“Never,” said Horace, “I may not claim 
you now, perhaps, but I shall work and wait 
for you.” 

“Wait for what?” I asked, drearily, “ while 
mother lives I must stay with her. It may 
— I hope it will be — many years, and you must 
not lose the best years of your life in such 
hopeless waiting.” 

I cannot remember all the rest. Horace 
pleaded, argued, grew angry at last, but I 
dared not yield. I “ did not love him,” he said, 
“ or I could not give him up so easily.” Ah, 
well ! better that he should think so, perhaps. 

“ If I am to forget you, I will go to South 
America to do it,” he said at last, bitterly. 
“You think it is providential that your mother 
does not know and can never reproach herself 
for your sacrifice, perhaps you think that South 
American offer is ‘ providential,’ also. Shall I 
go?” 

I made no answer. How could I live in River- 
side and be nothing to him, and where else could 
I go? Would he not forget me sooner and be 
happier in scenes far from me? But it was 
cruel to make me the cause of banishing him 


ECLIPSE. 207 

from home and friends — and I could not help 
it. 

“ Give me hope,” he said again, “ and I will 
work and wait for years, but if I must forget 
you let me go where I shall never see your face 
again.” 

I could not speak. “ Good-bye, then ; you 
have chosen your lot, you refuse my help,” he 
said, bitterly. “ I hope you may be happy yet 
— as for me it makes no difference.” 

He turned away, but I sprang to him, “ O, 
Horace, do not go away angry, you will see 
some day that T could not do otherwise. It is 
for your sake.” 

Something in my face or tone softened him. 
He took me in his arms. “ Forgive me, Isabel, 
I know you think you are doing right. Some 
day I may ask you again when I have some- 
thing to offer you, until then good-bye. God 
bless you.” 

His voice ended in a sob, he kissed me again 
and again, and was gone. 

After awhile I remembered that mother would 
want me and went up-stairs. It was well the 
room was dark. “What kept you so long?” 
she asked, complainingly. 

“ Horace Chilton was here,” I answered, as I 
arranged her pillows. 

“ He doesn’t want to take you away does he ? ” 


208 


CROSS ROADS. 


she asked, catching my arm. “ You will stay 
with me ; you won’t leave your poor mother, 
Isabel ? ” She was all trembling, and tears were 
in her eyes. Poor mother ! how she was 
changed. 

“ No mother, I will never leave you,” I said, 
quietly. “ When I go back to Riverside, you 
shall go with me.” 

We are at Riverside now; a pretty little 
cottage not far from the school-house is our 
home. Mrs. Chilton attended to it for me, and 
we brought mother here a week ago. Only a 
month, yet it seems like years since that 
July morning when I had sung for Horace. He 
had started for South America before I came 
home. If Mrs. Chilton guessed anything she 
never said so. She is kind as ever to me, 
kinder she could scarcely be. Bessie alone 
seems strangely cold. Every one else is very 
kind, Mr. Ramsay especially; Miss Peck even 
comes to ask after my mother. They offered 
me Horace’s place as organist in the church and 
I could not refuse it, although at first I thought 
I could not play there. But it saves me from 
going to the city, and is better pay. Every- 
thing seems to help me and every one. I ought 
to be thankful. I try to be. School begins 
next week. Can I be the same girl that left it 
so happily two months ago? 


ECLIPSE. 


209 


Jan. 18th. Months have passed since I wrote 
a line here, leaves have fallen and winter snows 
have lain thickly on the ground. 

It has been a hard winter to me, a winter of 
doubt and struggle ; thank God, I think I see 
a little light at last. At first it seemed as if all 
the brightness and hope had died out of my 
life, and the future looked so cold and dreary, 
I could only say : 

“ She took np the burden of life again, 

Saying only, * It might have been.’ ” 

And Oh, what a burden it seemed then ! But 
as time passed on and healed the first sharpness 
and surprise of grief I learned a better lesson. 
I am not one to die of a broken heart, nor 
should I love the creature more than the 
Creator. “ It might have been ” is the cry of 
destiny, but the Christian’s life is ordered by no 
blind fate. He who knoweth the end from the 
beginning, says, “ I will bring the blind by a 
way that they knew not.” 

Daily life and ever recurring duties kept 
mind and hands both busy. I had no time 
for idle grieving and I think — I hope, I have 
learned to say, “ Not as I will, but as thou 
wilt.” 

Yet this state of submission has only been 
reached by severe struggles, and even now it is 

14 


210 


CROSS ROADS. 


far from permanent. At times when I see 
other girls gay and happy and remember myself 
a year ago ; as one day recalls a merry sleigh 
ride, another a Christmas offering, or a ride or 
walk with one now far distant, my heart goes 
out in bitter rebellion. Why am I set apart 
from all these things, why was my youth and 
hope blasted so soon, why must I give up the 
happiness that seems so necessary to youth? 
Ah! I must stop. I cannot indulge these 
thoughts ; they are all too ready to rise up even 
now and I had hoped they were crushed. It is 
a daily battle only won one day to be fought 
over again the next ; yet I think the victory 
grows a little easier each time. Help me, dear 
Lord ; my path turned sharply from light to 
darkness, the life road is crooked and the cross- 
paths I do not know, but we have the promise, 
“ In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall 
direct thy paths.” If the dark path leads to 
thee, dear Lord, I need not fear to tread it. 
Thou didst tread a thorny path, and thy voice 
still sounds down the narrow pathway, “ Follow 
me.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


MIGHTY TO SAVE. 

Feb. 5th. Our home is a very quiet one. 
Dear mother is able to go about the house now, 
but her general health is still feeble, and she 
needs constant care. Sadie is with us. When 
I found I had a home, I offered her one with 
me and she joyfully accepted. Her board is a 
help to us and enables us to keep a girl, so all 
are benefited. She is like a sister to us ; mother 
has grown very fond of her and says it is a 
pleasure to have her in our little household. 
Sadie seems as happy as a bird ; she and Katie 
are great friends. I must not forget Mr. Ram- 
say’s kindness. At the new year he called to 
propose Katie’s attendance at the seminary. It 
would give him pleasure to number her among 
his pupils, if my mother’s health was sufficiently 
restored to spare her. He owed me a debt he 
could never repay, but he hoped I would allow 
him in this way to show his appreciation of it, 
etc., etc. 

Could anything have been kinder or more 

delicate ? I was only too glad to accept his 

/ 211 ) 


212 


CROSS ROADS. 


generous offer, nor should any false pride re- 
fuse his kindness. It was just what I wished, 
but I could not have afforded it for my sister, as 
he knew. Katie was delighted and improves 
rapidly ; I am proud of her and already she is 
a favorite with both teachers and scholars. She 
is so pretty, so bright and joyous. God grant 
her young life may not be darkened by sorrow. 

Bessie comes but seldom to see us and her 
manner is cool. I think -she imagines that I 
rejected Horace, and her sisterly affection has 
received a severe shock. She loved Horace 
dearly and no doubt blames me for his leaving 
home. Explanations are not possible, so I 
must let it pass. She is as gaj^ as ever, and I 
often see Robert Howland at her side. He 
called again during my absence at Wareham, 
and easily came under the influence of fair 
Bessie’s charm. I am well content. I could 
not bear to receive him now. He has called, 
but I told him my time was fully occupied with 
school, housekeeping and the care of mother. 

Once mother asked after Horace ; it was 
shortly after we came home. I told her he had 
gone to South America, his uncle having offered 
him a good position there. 

“ Why did you not tell me?” she asked. 

“ It was when you were so ill, you could not 


MIGHTY TO SAVE. 


213 


hear anything ; he was gone before we came 
home. Will you have your tea now, dear?” 

“Perhaps it is as well,” she mused, afterward. 
“ I thought at one time you might come to care 
for him, and I am too selfish to spare you. 
What would I do if you should leave me ? ” 

“ Be easy about that, dear mother,” I said, 
with a smile.” I shall never marry, never 
leave you ; do not fear.” 

But mother half sighed and said she could 
not wish me to give up everything for her ; 
“ some time later, perhaps.” 

March 2nd. I never saw any one so changed 
as Frank Marshall. He never comes to see me 
now, has quite forgotten his brotherly affection 
for me apparently, and has gone down hill very 
fast this last year. It commenced while I was at 
Dr. Chilton’s ; now he is considered one of the 
gayest, fastest young men in town. I often 
see him riding out on Sabbath afternoons, in 
company with other youths as careless and 
reckless as himself. I seldom pass the hotel 
that he is not smoking on the porch or loung- 
ing at- the corner. He has lost his frank, happy 
expression, though he is still handsome and a 
favorite in company. As for his college studies, 
they must be a mere form. It grieves Mrs. 
Chilton, I know. She loves him as if he were 
her own son. I remember our “ agreement,” 


214 


CROSS ROADS. 


but my heart sinks at the prospect. He knows 
the right but chooses the wrong, he is deter- 
mined to have “ a gay time,” yet I should like to 
ask him if he has found the pleasure he ex- 
pected in this gay life. He is not the bright, 
happy youth he was a year ago. How angry 
he was at Horace when he foretold this very 
thing. 

March 9th. No wonder Frank looks hag- 
gard and unhappy ! The secret is out now, a 
sad story but only the natural sequel to his 
wilful course the last year. I hardly know 
whether grief or indignation is most strong in 
my heart. I love Frank, but he has had such 
good advice, so many warnings and yet he has 
been so heedless and wayward! I met Bessie ; 
grief and indignation broke down the barrier 
between us and she told me the whole story. 
It seems that some nights ago a party of the 
students were returning home quite late from 
one of their frolics, Frank with them, of course. 
They were over excited with wine and frolic 
and drove their horses recklessly, until the poor 
beasts were almost exhausted. About a mile 
from town they met a gentleman who knew 
them and ventured to remonstrate; but they 
laughed at his well-meant warning and tried 
to pass him. Frank was driving. Mr. Nelson 
finding words unavailing left his own carriage 


MIGHTY TO SAVE. 


215 


and came to their horses’ heads. They ordered 
him to stand back, but his temper was roused 
and he refused. Some one started the horses 
and Mr. Nelson was thrown to the ground, re- 
ceiving one or two kicks from the excited 
animals. He did not rise, and the young 
men, startled and sobered, came to their senses 
and succeeded in bringing him to Dr. Chilton 
for medical assistance. It is a very serious in- 
jury, the result is still uncertain. Mr. Nelson 
when restored to consciousness said it was an 
accident, partly his own fault, and refuses to 
prosecute ; but the story is all over town and as 
Frank held the reins he is regarded as the chief 
culprit. He is quite overwhelmed at this sad 
end of his folly, and regards his probable expul- 
sion from college as the least of his punish- 
ments. 

March 10th. I went to see Mrs. Chilton and 
found her as I had expected, sad but calm. 
She begged me to speak to Frank if I could, 
saying that I always had considerable influence 
with him and she thought that was the reason 
he had avoided me of late. He passed me on 
my way out, but gave me no opportunity of 
speaking. He looked very pale and unhappy, 
quite unlike the gay youth of a year ago. He 
is proud, and this disgrace must sting him ; he 
is kind-hearted and would not knowingly in- 


216 


CROSS ROADS. 


jure anyone, yet Mr. Nelson may die from this 
injury. Shame and remorse have bowed 
Frank’s bright spirit to the ground. He refused 
to learn from an easier lesson, this hard one 
may be a turning point in his life. God grant 
it. 

March 17th. Mr. Nelson is at last out of 
danger and has been removed to his own home, 
but it will be a long time before he is fully 
recovered ; in fact the doctor fears he will be 
lame for life. He still refuses to implicate the 
young men, but the truth is abroad and the 
whole town rings with the story. I hear it 
wherever I go, of course with exaggerations 
and contradictions, but every one agrees in 
condemning Frank. “They always said he 
would come to no good, hope this will be a 
lesson to him, no doubt he will be expelled 
from college,” etc., etc. Poor Frank, ‘ every 
man’s hand is against him.’ Alice Campbell 
will not speak to him on the street. My heart 
aches for him, but he gives me no chance to 
speak a word. 

March 24th. I took a long walk this after- 
noon, rambling off alone as is my fashion, and 
returned by the river side. There I saw Frank 
sitting gloomily on the end of the bridge. 
Here was my opportunity and I at once 
seized it. 


MIGHTY TO SAVE. 


217 


“ What are you doing here all alone, 
Frank?” I asked, as cheerfully as I could. 

He rose and met my glance with a dark, 
troubled look, as he said bitterly : 

“ I was debating with myself whether I 
might not as well plunge in there and end it 
all at once.” 

I shuddered, for I saw he half meant what he 
said. “ End it all ? ” I repeated, slowly, “ do you 
really think that would put an end to your 
troubles, Frank ? ” 

“ That is what kept me from it,” he returned, 
with a hard, short laugh. “ It is better to 

“ ‘ — bear those ills we have, 

Than fly to others that we know not of.’ ” 

“ O, Frank ! don’t talk so lightly, so bitterly,” 
I exclaimed, “ you know fur better than that. 
You used to call me your ‘sister’; let me be a 
sister now and try to show you how this 
trouble may turn to your own good.” 

“For my own good! ” he returned, defiantly. 
“ You know not what you speak of, Isabel. Is it 
for ‘ my good ’ that Mr. Nelson is to be lame for 
life, and I have done it ? Is it for my good that* 
every one turns against me as an outlaw ? Alice 
will not look at me, the faculty would have 
expelled me if Mr. Nelson himself had not 
begged them not to do so. Why do you stay 


218 


CROSS ROADS. 


here with me, Isabel; are you not afraid some 
one might pass and see you talking to me ? Go 
on, don’t waste your time over me.” 

“ I will not go Frank,” I said, emboldened by 
this outburst to stay and talk with him as I 
wished. 44 I will not leave you while you talk 
so ; your true friends love you as much now as 
ever. Dear Frank, it will do you no good to 

brood over your troubles. You are sorry ” 

41 Sorry /” he ejaculated, with bitter emphasis. 
44 Well then, you repent,” I amended. 44 You 
are ashamed of the past ; you cannot alter it, but 
the future is in your own power if you ask 
help and forgiveness aright. You can live this 
down, Frank, brother. Show your repentance 
by your changed life. There is One who will 
not turn away from you, 4 A Friend, who 
sticketh closer than a brother.’ ” 

Frank softened under my earnest appeal. 

44 Ah ! if I had heeded your advice sooner, 
Isabel, I should never have come to this. You 
told me truly when you said, 4 1 could do right 
but I did not wish to.’ I am paying bitterly 
for it now.” 

44 But you do wish to now, Frank;” then I 
urged all my powers of entreaty upon him, as 
he seemed inclined to listen. I made him walk 
home with me down Main Street, where we met 
everybody on this bright afternoon. Alice 


MIGHTY TO SAVE. 


219 


Campbell passed us with a curious, indignant 
look at me, but did not speak. Frank’s lip 
curled, but he said not a word. I left him 
at the gate, rather less gloomy than I had met 
him. I have strong hopes for him yet; he is 
thoroughly roused, in deep earnest for once in 
his life. Oh, that in this critical moment he may 
seek help where alone it can be found. I must 
pray hard for him now, perhaps the answer is 
near at hand. 

April 2nd. Frank came in this evening just 
after tea. It is long since he has visited me, 
and I felt greatly encouraged. 

“ I am like Saul to-night,” he said. “ I am 
‘ troubled with an evil spirit ; ’ you cast it out 
the other day, sister, and I came to see if you 
could perform the same kind office to-night.” 

He spoke in a jesting tone, but I knew the 
stern truth that lay beneath his words. 

“ I must try David’s plan then,” I replied, as 
I went to the piano. He threw himself on the 
sofa. 

“ That is right, sing to me. No, don’t light 
the lamp, please ; this fire-light is pleasanter.” 

I knew how susceptible Frank was to music 
and felt that I could say to him through its 
medium what I could not otherwise ; so with a 
silent prayer for guidance I touched the keys. I 
began with a hymn we had often sung together 


220 


CROSS ROADS. 


in happier days, perhaps he had not heeded the 
words then, but now he was “ weary with sin.” 

“Flee as a bird to your mountain, 

Thou who art weary of sin ; 

Flee to the clear flowing fountain, 

Where thou may’st wash and be clean. 

Haste, for the avenger is near thee, 

Call, and the Saviour will hear thee, 

He on his bosom will bear thee. 

Thou who art weary with sin.” 

There was no sound from the dark figure on 
the sofa, and I began another song, somewhat 
new at that time, “The Ninety and Nine.” 
My voice trembled a little at the second verse 
but I soon controlled it. 

“ Lord, thou hast here thy ninety and nine ; 

Are they not enough for thee? 

But the Shepherd made answer, * ’Tis of mine, 

Has wandered away from me : 

And although the road be rough and steep 

I go to the desert to find my sheep.’ ” 

T paused at the close. The fire-light gleamed 
in the grate and cast strange, fantastic shadows 
on the wall, but the figure on the sofa was 
motionless. It must mean to go on ; so I be- 
gan another, tender and more personal : 

“ Art thou weary,. art thou languid, 

Art thou sore distressed ? 

‘ Come to me ’ saith One, and coming, 

Be at rest. ” 


MIGHTY TO SAVE. 


221 


“If I ask him lo receive me, 

Will he say me — nay ? 

Nob till earth, and not till heaven 
Pass away.” 

Still another : 

“ Come, come to Jesus, 

He waits to welcome thee, 

O wanderer, eagerly, 

Come, come to Jesus.” 

Come, come to Jesus, 

He waits to ransom thee, 

O, slave, eternally, 

Come, come to Jesus. 

Come, come to Jesus, 

He waits to lighten thee, 

O, burdened, graciously 
Come, come to Jesus.” 

Again and again the sweet invitation sounded 
in plaintive, minor strains. As I turned round 
after the last verse, I saw that Frank had 
changed his position and was bending over, his 
face buried in his hands. I went to him and 
laid my hand on his bowed head. He looked 
up and I could see that tears stood in his eyes. 

“ O, Isabel, dear sister, I don’t know how to 
come or I would ; I have been trying for a week 
past. Show me,” he said. 

I gave my answer in a song that has guided 
many into the light : 


222 


CROSS ROADS. 


“ Just as I am, without one plea, 

But that thy blood was shed for me, 

And that thou hids’t me come to thee, 

O Lamb of God, I come ! I come ! n 

“ Just as I am, and waiting not, 

To rid my soul of one dark blot, 

To thee whose blood can cleanse each spot, 

O Lamb of God, I come ! I come ! ” 

I paused before the last verse, “ Frank, can’t 
you sing this with me ? ” I asked. 

Just as I am, thy love now known , 

Hath broken every barrier down, 

Now to be thine, yea, thine alone, 

O Lamb of God, I come ! I come ! ” 

He came over to me, “ Not to-night, Isabel ; 
I hope I may before long.” He bent down, 
touched my forehead and went out. 

I fell on my knees and prayed for him as I 
had hardly done for myself. I felt that I 
could take no denial. Like Jacob of old, I said, 
“ I will not let thee go, except thou bless me.” 
Heart and flesh seemed as if they would break 
in that agony of prayer. Suddenly I felt that 
I could pray no longer. I cannot tell how, but 
it came to me all once that Jesus loved Frank 
more than I did, that he had promised and so 
would not turn him away, that he was more 
willing to receive him than we were to ask. 


MIGHTY TO SAVE. 


223 


I could trust Frank in the Saviour’s hands. A 
sweet sense of peace and security came over 
me. I struggled no more, but weary and 
exhausted retired to rest and in a few moments 
was sleeping soundly. 

April 3rd. The world seems bright and 
beautiful this morning. Heavy showers fell in 
the night, but as the sun rose in all his strength 
the clouds scattered and the blue sky appeared. 
The grass begins to take a touch of green, the 
buds are swelling on the trees and a gay, saucy 
robin-redbreast sang his matin song just out- 
side my window. “ The rain is over and gone ; 
the flowers appear on the earth ; and the time 
of the singing of birds is come.” The heart 
which has lain in my bosom like a lump of lead 
all this winter begins to feel lighter ; and as I 
remember last night my sadness is swallowed 
up in hope. God is good; he never turns away 
a soul that cries to him for help. But how 
strange are his ways of leading to the light. 

I looked for Frank this evening and was not 
disappointed : he came in with a smile on his 
face such as he has not worn for months, a light 
in his eye and a spring in his step, like his old 
self, only better. Sadie and Katie were in the 
parlor ; so we did not allude to last night, but 
I felt that my prayer was answered, and could, 
not keep the glad tears from my eyes. At last 


224 


CROSS ROADS. 


the girls went away and we were left alone. “ I 
can sing with yon to-night, sister,” he said, 
affectionately — but I could not sing then. Oh, 
how good is God ! how merciful and gracious ! 
I never loved him as I do to-night. Frank’s 
account was short and simple. 

“ I don’t know how it is, Isabel. I have prayed 
for a month but I did not seem to get any 
nearer. I began to think I was too wicked for 
God to pardon, I had turned away from him 
so often. “ Just as I am,” seemed to give me 
hope again. I prayed last night until at last I 
went to bed feeling I could do no more. I must 
leave the rest to the Lord. This morning I 
woke up happy, and to-night I can sing with 
all my heart, 

‘ Just as I am, without one plea, 

But that thy blood was shed for me, 

And that thou bids’ t me come to thee, 

O, Lamb of God, I come ! I come ! ’ ” 

Another in the kingdom ! The promise of 
God standeth sure, “ If we believe not, yet he 
abideth faithful ; he cannot deny himself.” How 
often have I thought I could never doubt 
again ; and yet when temptation came I have 
begun to despair. Oh, wandering heart ! But 
I will not grieve to-night. There is joy in heaven 
with the angels, and there is joy on earth 


MIGHTY TO SAVE. 


225 


scarcely less. Dear Mrs. Chilton, how happy 
this will make her. Ah ! Frank, you are my 
brother now in better bonds than kinship. We 
have one Father, one elder Brother, “one Lord, 
one faith, one baptism.” 

April 5th. Frank came in again this even- 
ing. It was the night of our weekly prayer - 
meeting and I asked him to go with me. He 
hesitated and seemed surprised. 

“ Why not, Frank ? ” I asked. “ Do you 
intend to keep your new hope a secret? You 
are not ashamed to have it known, are you?” 

“ No,” he said, “ I will go with you ; I am not 
afraid to show my colors.” 

I knew that it cost him an effort. Every eye 
in the room turned upon him as we entered. I 
doubt if Frank had ever entered that little 
room before ; it was a significant act, his first 
acknowledgment of his new principles, but he 
did more than that before we came out. The 
meeting proceeded as usual, and when the 
invitation was given for any one to speak who 
wished, etc., to the astonishment of all, none 
more than myself, Frank Marshall rose. My 
heart beat so fast I could hardly hear anything 
else at first, but Frank spoke in his clear, 
natural way, with a ring of determination in his 
voice I had never heard before. 

“ My friends,” he said, “ no doubt you are 

15 


226 


CROSS ROADS. 


surprised to see me here to-night. You all 
know I have been used to visiting very 
different places, but 1 hope that is over now. I 
have done a great many wrong things, I don’t 
deserve to be forgiven, I hardly dare call my- 
self a Christian ; and yet I hope that God has 
accepted me ‘just as I am,’ that he has forgiven 
me all my sins. At any rate I am going to try 
to serve him in the future, and I wanted to tell 
you and ask you to pray for me. I do not deserve 
his goodness, but Jesus came to save sinners.” 

Frank sat down. Deacon Jameson and Doc- 
tor Arnot were on their feet at the same 
instant, but, with a wave of his hand to the dea- 
con, the doctor broke forth (I can use no other 
expression) in a prayer of thanksgiving. Such 
an earnest supplication, so tender, affectionate 
and joyous it has seldom been my lot to hear. 
He called Frank “our dear, young brother,” 
and beautifully and fervently he prayed that 
the work of grace might go on in his heart. 
There were few dry eyes in the room when he 
closed; I was weeping like a child and did not 
care who saw it. Frank had bowed his head ; 
his face was hidden, but I was sure his own 
eyes were full also. 

Deacon Jameson followed. I had often 
thought him dull and dry, and murmured at 
his long, tiresome prayers, but I forgave him 


MIGHTY TO SAVE. 


227 


all now. I did not think it was in him to be 
so earnest and tender. How selfish we are, 
how little we appreciate anything until it 
touches ourselves ! 

The minister shook hands with us both warmly 
as we came out, holding Frank’s hand longest. 
“You have begun right, Frank,” he said, 
“ never be afraid to speak for Jesus. I will see 
you very soon.” 

Several others shook hands with him and 
spoke in a friendly way. Frank was much 
touched. 

“ You see who are your true friends, Frank,” 
I said. “ You will always be welcome here.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


HARD QUESTIONS. 

July 7th. Another summer has come round, 
as bright and beautiful as that of a year ago, 
but to me every fair day brings a reminder of 
one much fairer ; every moonlight night thrills 
with the remembrance of a joy now past. The 
freshness of spring seemed to revive the first 
suddenness of my sorrow ; and now, as every day 
reminds me “It is just a year ago,” my heart 
sinks lower and lower. I struggle with this 
feeling; I try to rise above it, but in vain. 
Comfort will not come to me just now. I must 
wait ; the feeling will pass away with the season 
perhaps. The school term is over. They say 
I have worked too hard this year ; I am pale 
and thin, and need rest and change. I do not 
contradict them, though I know it is not work 
that changed me. 

“You are too closely confined, my dear,” said 
Dr. Chilton, “you must take rest. Go away 
somewhere and forget Riverside for a few 
weeks. You do not look like the same girl you 
were a year ago.” 

( 228 ) 


HARD QUESTIONS. 


229 


I smile at the idea of being “ the girl I was a 
year ago,” gay, happy, hopeful. Was I ever 
that ? If I am changed outwardly, the inward 
change is yet greater ; but that I do not think 
that anyone suspects. It is well that overwork 
gives me an excuse for pale cheeks and languid 
steps. I might wish — but no ! I will not put 
that thought into words ; there is work for me 
to do here, and they need me. If happiness is 
gone, yet usefulness remains. I may learn in 
time to find pleasure in duty alone. I ought to 
do so now, but strength seems to have failed 
me just at present. 

Aug. 10th. I found this to-day in my read- 
ings ; cold comfort, but it gives a certain 
strength withal : 

“ What are we set on earth for ? Say, to toil ; 

Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines, 

For all the heat of day, till it declines, 

And death’s mild curfew shall from earth assoil : 

God did anoint thee with his odorous oil, 

To wrestle, not to reign.” 

Sept. 20th. Bessie is engaged to be married, 
as I foresaw some time ago, to Robert How- 
land. He has visited her ever since that time 
last summer when he came to see me and found 
that I had gone to Wareham. The two are as 
opposite in character as they are in looks. I 


230 


CROSS ROADS. 


should not have thought they would have fan- 
cied each other, but if they are satisfied I sup- 
pose less interested parties may be. To do 
them justice they both appear perfectly con- 
tented. I tried to tease Bessie, reminding her 
how she had once declared so vehemently, “ I 
will never be engaged again.” 

“ I couldn’t help it,” she declared, blushing so 
prettily. “ He didn’t ask me ; he just took me 
as if I belonged to him. You know what a 
way he has ; he don’t give one a chance to say 
‘No.’ ” 

“ Ah, Bessie ! I don’t think you wanted to 
say it very badly ; you found a chance before.” 

Bessie laughs and does not try to contradict 
this assertion. I do not wonder that Robert 
was charmed by her gaiety and beauty. I am 
heartily glad that these two, both of whom I like 
so much, will be happy together. Time, or 
Bessie, or something better than either has 
greatly improved Robert Howland ; he is in 
earnest now, and his really fine character wins 
respect and admiration. Doctor and Mrs. Chil- 
ton are much pleased with him. It is pretty to 
see Bessie and him together, so different and 
yet so well matched in their youth, beauty, and 
hopefulness. Bessie was born for a happy lot. 
Of course she has a hundred things to do to 
get ready. 


HARD QUESTIONS. 


231 


Nov. 9th. I overheard the following con- 
versation between Frank and Sadie yesterday. 
We were coming home from church in the even- 
ing, I was walking ahead with Katie. Frank 
spoke. 

“ Sadie, you are a Christian, tell me, do you 
always feel sure of it ? Are you always certain, 
or do you doubt sometimes? Often I am almost 
afraid to believe it of myself ; I want to do so 
many wrong things, and I forget so often.” 

“Doubt?” repeated Sadie, thoughtfully. 
“ Why, no, I never thought of that. I often 
do wrong myself, but then I tell Jesus and he 
forgives me. I don’t know that I can explain 
it to you Frank, but you know Christ says, 
‘ Him that cometh to me I will in no wise 
cast out.’ I came to Jesus, and it seems to me 
that if we doubt it is not believing his word. 
He will keep his promise, even if we do not 
deserve it. You know that ‘he loved them 
unto the end.’ ” 

Simple, childlike faith ! troubled by no doubts 
or fears even of her unworthiness, for Christ has 
promised. “ Of such is the kingdom of heaven.” 
Dear Sadie, this is not the first lesson you have 
taught me. 

“Dec. 13th. To-day I sat at the table of 
our Lord. Sadie and Katie, Frank and Bessie 
were with me. It was a blessed season ; truly, 


232 


CROSS ROADS. 


‘‘the fellowship of kindred minds isliketothat 
above.” It was a foreshadowing of that great 
supper of the Lamb, when the saints of all 
ages shall meet in joyful communion around his 
throne ; when those dear to each other shall all 
unite in the great feast, separated no more by 
divisions of land or sea, of heart or life or 
death. We shall all meet there and “they 
shall go no more out forever.” God is very 
good ; all those dearest to me are his dear ones 
also. Frank came out boldly on the Lord’s 
side some time ago. He had to encounter the 
surprise and ridicule of his old companions; 
but lie stood the test bravely, and they do not 
trouble him now. Daily he grows dearer to 
me, a true brother now. Katie is one of those 
gentle beings who seem always to have be- 
longed to Christ’s fold. It was only an out- 
ward avowal of what had long been her secret 
hope when she took the vows of the church on 
herself. She could not understand such strug- 
gles and resistance as were mine. Even now 
rebellion and bitterness strive daily for posses- 
sion of my heart, and too often they gain the 
mastery. But patience. 


“ A few more struggles liere, 

A few more partings o’er, 

A few more toils, a few more tears, 
And we shall weep no more.” 


HARD QUESTIONS. 


233 


“ A few more storms shall beat 
On this wild rocky shore; 

And we shall be where tempests cease, 

And surges swell no more.” 

May 21st. Bessie left us yesterday for her 
new home, a lovely, blushing bride. We shall 
miss her very much. The old house seems 
lonely now that only little May is left of all the 
young party that brightened it two years ago. 
“ Little May ” we always call her ; she is nearly 
sixteen now, but so childish in her ways that the 
title still seems appropriate. Sometimes I fear 
she will not stay with us much longer ; she is 
very delicate and frail ; but she has always been 
so, especially since that last illness. Frank is 
in the city now; he has gone into business and 
is “ as steady as an old horse,” he says. He 
usually spends his Sundays at Riverside, and is 
equally at home at our house or his uncle’s. 
He has lost none of his old joyousness and is 
as full of fun as ever ; but it is Sadie and Katie 
who suffer from his jokes now, he seldom teases 
me. I thought to see him a little sober when 
Alice left us, with her gay young husband, but 
that dream was over for him long ago. I am 
glad of it, he deserves something better now. 

Aug. 21st. This summer mother was so much 
better that she insisted I should have a change ; 
so I spent a few weeks at Hallam with Allan 


234 


CROSS ROADS. 


and Margaret. It was very pleasant, but every- 
thing seems so altered since I was there three 
years ago — most of all myself. Then I was 
young and full of hope, my life before me ; now, 
although only twenty-three, I feel young no 
longer. I expect nothing more from life. I 
try to do my duty and find happiness in it, but 
I cannot deny at times that the road looks dis- 
mal and lonely. 

Yesterday I received a letter from Horace 
Chilton — the first he had written me since his 
departure. My heart stood still when Allan 
handed it to me, and I recognized the writing 
and the foreign post-mark. I escaped to my 
room to read it. The letter was not long, but 
it upset for a time all my hard gained self-con- 
trol. He wrote kindly, gravely, but hardly ten- 
derly ; he says he has waited for two years, he 
reminds me of his promise that he would ask 
me again, he has heard that my mother is much 
better and he begs me now to reconsider my 
decision. He is doing well in Rio Janeiro and 
could provide a home for us all. “ Isabel, will 
you come ? I told you once that your mother 
and sister should be mine ; will you blight both 
our lives from a false pride or sense of duty? ” 

Is it false ? I think not, mother would never 
consent, nor could she live in that climate. No, 
I have told him I cannot change, my lot is 


HARD QUESTIONS. 


235 


fixed, and I begged him not to write again but 
to find some one more free to make him happy. 
He deserves it. I suppose he thinks me cold. 

Sept. 10th. School opened again to-day. 
Steady work is best for me after all. I was 
glad to find my old desk again, to have the 
girls clustering around me full of their summer 
pleasures and eager to impart them to me, glad 
to greet Mr. Ramsay again ; he has always been 
such a kind friend to me. Miss Peck has grad- 
ually grown quite friendly, and looks on me no 
longer as an interloper. This begins my fourth 
year at Riverside. I must try and do more for 
my girls this year than I did last. I fear my 
duties were performed very mechanically last 
term. I felt as if I needed all my life and 
strength for myself, and had nothing to give 
others ; I was selfish and wrapped up in my 
own trouble. By the help of God, I have come 
out of that dreary stage of existence ; let me 
forget self and work for others, taking an in- 
terest in their affairs and using what influence 
I possess for their benefit. Surely this is a 
more noble end in life than my own happiness. 
God helping me I hope to be able to do it, and 
to find a pure and unselfish pleasure in adding 
to the happiness of those around me. “ Man’s 
chief end is to glorify God, and enjoy him for- 
ever.” It is not easy to learn that it is not our 


236 


CROSS ROADS. 


“chief end” to enjoy life, and have a good 
time. 

I miss Sadie. Her school days are over and 
she has gone to her home. It is not a happy 
one, yet I hope she may find a work to do there, 
and in time win the heart that looks so coldly * 
on her now. She writes that she misses my af- 
fection and counsel, our home was such a pleas- 
ant nest to her. 

Oct. 8th. The sun shines down to-day upon 
a glorious world ; field, flood and hill stand 
bathed in wondrous beauty and send back the 
glad greeting in glittering garments of crimson, 
gold and russet. The maples flame in bold 
relief against the clear, blue sky, and the dark 
green of the pines tones down the brilliant 
hues with a softening touch. It is not Nature, 
the abstract idea by which we mean nothing ; it 
is God, whose creative hand has wrought such 
wondrous beauty. Mr. Ramsay took Katie and 
me out riding this afternoon. He laughs at 
my enthusiasm, he sees nothing but ‘a clear 
sky and red leaves.’ 

“ A primrose by the river’s brim, 

A yellow primrose is to him ; 

And it is nothing more.” 

I am thankful for the artistic, poetic or what- 
ever ‘ ic ’ element it is in my nature that opens 


HARD QUESTIONS. 


237 


my eyes to the hidden beauty of nature. Ah ! 
there are many sources of pleasure in this world 
pure and unalloyed, and this is one of the 
greatest. How much they miss who “have 
eyes and see not ! ” 

Jan. 20, 18 — . I wonder if I shall ever 
reach the entire submission, the utter putting 
aside of self, that is embodied in some lines, I 
have been reading. I think I have learned a 
little, but how often I am off my guard and the 
old enemy creeps in with bitter suggestions and 
questionings of justice ; and yet in Heaven 
what shall we look for beyond his face ? 

“All are not taken ; there are left behind 
Living Beloveds, tender looks to bring, 

And make the daylight still a happy thing, 

And tender voices to make soft the wind. 

But if it were not so — if I could find 
No love in all the world for comforting, 

Nor any path but hollowly did ring, 

Where ‘ dust to dust ’ the love from life disjoined ; 
And if before those sepulchres unmoviug 
I stood alone — as some forsaken lamb 
Goes bleating up the moors in dreary dearth, 

Crying, ‘ Where are ye, O my loved and loving? ’ 

I know a Voice could sound, “ Daughter, I am; 

Can I suffice for Heaven and not for earth ? ” 

Feb. 5th. I have inaugurated a little 
prayer-meeting among my girls. It was rather 
hard at first, but I thought I could win their 


238 


CROSS ROADS. 


confidence better if we had a stated season to 
meet and talk over these things. I am already 
repaid for any sacrifice of feeling it cost me. 
We have a precious little hour after school on 
Friday. Some of the girls are already Chris- 
tians and I have persuaded two or three to take 
part in the exercises. We can strengthen each 
other thus and the rest know that we pray for 
them. I remember our little prayer-meetings 
at Oriel, and trust that God will bless this 
effort as he did that. May is always one of 
our number, unless stormy weather detains her 
at home. Katie is with her and Fanny Miller 
and May Reynolds ; they are my chief reliance 
as yet. I miss Sadie here. 

Feb. 17th. Bessie is at home on a visit. 
She looks as happy and pretty as ever, with an 
assumption of matronly dignity at times that 
quite overcomes Frank. I took tea there to- 
night. Frank teases her as much as ever. 
“ Robert, I am astonished that you allow your 
wife to be so annoyed,” she says, in pretended 
indignation. But Robert only smiles and evi- 
dently considers her fully able to take her own 
part, which indeed she is. She assures Frank 
that “ Mrs. Howland ” is quite an important 
personage in her new sphere ; if he could see 
with how much respect her new friends and 
relations treat her he would not presume to be 


HARD QUESTIONS. 


289 


so disrespectful. Frank pretends to be greatly- 
taken down by this view of things and subsides 
into the most obsequious devotion, addressing 
her constantly as 4 Mrs. Howland,’ and is pain- 
fully polite and attentive. May hangs around 
her sister with admiring affection, but Bessie 
sighs as she kisses her good-night and remarks 
to me afterwards that May looks more delicate 
than ever. Marriage has improved Bessie ; 
there is a thoughtfulness about her I never saw 
before. 

March 1st. Mr. Ramsay surprised me be- 
yond measure to-day, pained me and brought 
back in a rush all the old feelings which I had 
hoped were buried forever. I have given him 
pain also, I know, and that grieves me ; for I 
have always looked upon him as a friend. But 
I cannot think of him in any other way and 
that is just the trouble. I did not dream he 
cared for me that way. I am so sorry I have 
given him such cause for unhappiness. He is 
good and noble, but he does not understand 
me ; he is not my kind. I could never love him, 
if there were no other reason. Oh ! why must I 
always make those who love me unhappy? He 
was very generous, very kind, but I told him I 
had no heart to give him. 

44 Let us still be friends, then,” he said at last, 
“your friendship, Isabel, is more to me than 


240 


CROSS ROADS. 


many another’s love. Forget what I have said 
and if you cannot give me what I ask, do not 
take away the measure of regard I have hith- 
erto enjoyed.” 

I assured him that he had always been, and 
should always be, one of my best friends; it 
was not my fault that T could give him no more. 
I hoped he would forget this conversation and 
find some one who could give him a better 
reward for his kindness. 

What a strange life this is ! Paths will not 
run parallel but intersect each other in every 
direction, cross roads continually. But when 
we reach the end of our journey and look down 
upon our life’s pathway, we shall see that the 
roads all lead to one end, however opposite they 
may now appear to be. 

May 15th. Sadie came out to spend a few 
days with me in this lovely spring weather. I 
took her to school with me on Friday to our 
little prayer-meeting. That weekly hour grows 
dearer to me as I trace tokens of growing 
interest in the increased attendance and quiet 
air of the little band. Already I hope the 
Spirit of God is stirring the hearts of one or 
two. Laura Carden was in tears this afternoon. 
The seed was “ sown in weakness ” and much 
trembling, may he give it power. Mother 
would make me vain if I would let her tell me 


HARD QUESTIONS. 


241 


all the kind speeches she hears about me. I am 
glad that my work is approved, but I am apt to 
think more highly of myself than I ought to, 
and a self-complacent spirit would spoil all the 
good I hope to do or get. 

Frank spent the evening with us and we had 
“a good old-fashioned time,” he said, which 
means plenty of music, and teasing on his part 
and lively conversation. Sometimes I wonder 
if Katie is any attraction to Frank ; she is grow- 
ing up now and is very graceful and pretty. It 
would be pleasant to have him for a real 
brother, but Katie is too much of a child to 
think of such things for a long time yet. 

June 20th. My fourth school year at River- 
side is ended. I feel better satisfied with my 
work this term than ever before. God has 
helped me wonderfully : I have been able to put 
more life and earnestness this year, into my work 
for him, and he has given me precious seals of 
his presence and approval. Laura Carden 
united with the church last Sabbath ; she says 
she never thought much of being a Christian 
until I spoke to her and she went to the girls’ 
prayer-meeting. That avowal would be enough 
reward for any exertion and any sacrifice it 
cost me to put aside my personal feelings and 
speak of that which I knew, but had kept silent 
in my own heart. I am glad I forced myself 
16 


242 


CROSS ROADS. 


to break that reserve, for now I find it very 
sweet to speak for Jesus. I am sure some of 
the others are thoughtful, and trust that they 
will ere long follow Laura’s example. To God 
be all the glory. 

June 30th. Mother and Katie are going quite 
a long journey this summer, no less than to 
Chicago to visit brother George’s family. He 
has written before for her to come, and as her 
health had improved so much this past year, the 
doctor says the change will benefit her. She 
could not think of leaving Katie so long and it 
is better for them to go together. I shall stay 
and keep house, with Sadie for company, while 
they will go West. It will do mother good I 
hope. 

July 2nd. They started yesterday. Frank 
went with them to the depot to see them safely 
off, and brought Sadie out to me in the even- 
ing. I feel lonely ; it is the first time mother has 
been away since she came to Riverside, now 
nearly three years. It may be foolish but I do 
not feel easy. If I were given to superstition 
I should say I had a presentiment of evil ; it 
is nothing, I know, yet somehow I cannot 
shake off the feeling. I suppose I am nervous 
and low spirited about their going. 

Aug. 10th. Mother and Katie are still in 
Chicago. They appear to be enjoying them- 


HARD QUESTIONS. 


243 


selves and no one will hear of their returning 
yet. They say it is too long a journey to take 
for a short visit and their friends will keep them 
till October, if possible. Katie is delighted, 
George’s wife is pleasant, and a Mr. Morgan is 
frequently mentioned as one of their party, a 
friend of George’s, I believe. 

Mrs. Chilton and May are in and out here 
every day, or Sadie or I go there ; the girls are 
constantly running in ; Frank is our “ man of 
the house,” I am not lonely; so I write to 
them, “ stay.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


DEAD HOPES. 

Aug. 12th. Three years to-day since I parted 
from Horace ; one year since I have heard a 
word from him, except of course casual mention 
at his home. I asked him then not to write to 
me again, to find some one who might be free 
to make him happy ; perhaps he has done so. 
Bessie spoke once of a young English girl, the 
daughter of a business friend of his, to whom 
rumor had it he was very attentive. I ought 
to be glad for his sake, but I am selfish yet I fear. 

Aug. 20th. "Why do our thoughts always fly 
to some one just before we hear news of them ? 
Frank brought me a foreign paper last night 
but did not wait. I opened it and read this 
marked notice : 

“Married. On the 18th. of July at the residence of the 
British ambassador in Rio Janeiro, Horace Chilton, M. 
D., of U. S. A., to Clara, only daughter of the late Hon. 
John Hamilton, of Lincolnshire, England.” 

I did not know how much of hope still 
lingered in my heart until I felt it suddenly 

( 244 ) ■ 


DEAD HOPES. 


245 


extinguished. He has “ forgotten me in South 
America,” as he said. It is easier for men to 
forget than for women. But I am glad that he 
is happy, for I am still bound ; and why should 
he waste his best years in the loneliness and 
suspense of hopeless waiting ? I was right : three 
years were enough for him. 

“Some time I may ask you again,” he said, 
“ until then good-bye.” 

Good-bye Horace. I must forget even *that 
memory now. 

Oct. 13th. Let me write it down calmly, 
now that I have strength. I have been very 
ill; for many days I lay near the borders of 
the other world. I was glad ; I thought that 
it was all over, and now that no one wanted me 
God was going to take me home. But I am 
getting well — I try to be thankful. Mother 
and Katie came home in haste, when Frank 
wrote that I was ill. Katie left Mr. Morgan 
to come to me. How hateful it is in me to feel 
so about my own sister’s happiness ! but I feel 
so weak, and it all seems so needless now. 

I have heard through others the particulars 
of Horace’s marriage. Mr. Hamilton was con- 
nected with him in business, and Horace often 
visited at their house and grew to know the 
fair young daughter well ; can I wonder that 
she learned to love him? Her father died sud- 


246 


CROSS ROADS. 


denly and left her alone in a foreign land. 
Horace, as a near friend, attended to the sad de- 
tails for her, and in trying to console her, found 
out her feelings for him. Was it strange then 
that he took her to his heart, when I had a 
second time refused him? But I must not 
think of him. Then too, comes the thought 
of Katie and her lover. God knows I do not 
grudge her this love, but the double shock was 
too much. I could have stood Horace’s mar- 
riage believing that I was necessary to mother 
and Katie ; but when that letter came so soon 
after, and I found that Katie had a western 
lover and a new home, and I knew that mother 
would stay with her, it came upon me all 
at once that I had sacrificed my life for noth- 
ing. I had given up love, hope and happiness 
for them; and they had left me alone. Well, 
they never knew it. 

I was too hasty ; why could I not wait? The 
future was in God’s hand; why did I take it 
into mine ? I might have seen that Katie would 
grow up and marry, and mother always loved 
her best. But I did not think it would be so 
soon — she is so young, only eighteen, and has 
always appeared even younger than she is. 
And Horace did not wait ; perhaps he would 
not have waited anyhow. I cannot tell; 
everything seems so confused ; I thought I was 


DEAD HOPES. 


247 


right. I was so glad when I fell sick and they 
thought I was going to die ; it seemed such a 
natural end now that my work was done and 
no one needed me any more. They would not 
miss me very much. I wonder why I could 
not go home. I am so tired — so tired ! 

Oct. 20th. I am stronger now and can write 
more connectedly. Did I think that was writ- 
ing “ calmly ” ? I have half a mind to tear 
out that page, but on second thought will let it 
stand and find an answer for it. I have boasted 
that I had learned the lesson that happiness 
was not the chief end of man ; and yet when 
the hope that I did not know I had cherished 
was taken away, I fell into despair. How little, 
after all, we know our own hearts ! but God is 
very good. He is very near to me just now, 
and he does not chide his poor, weak child. 
Instead I hear his voice, 

“ Daughter, I am ; 

Shall I suffice for Heaven and not for earth ? ” 

Oct. 25th. How every one seems to love me ! 
I don’t deserve it — and to think that I wanted 
to die and leave them all ! Mrs. Chilton nursed 
me day and night until mother came. Sadie 
would scarcely leave my room. Frank hovered 
around continually, and was quite overcome 
when I was pronounced out of danger. Little 


248 


CROSS ROADS. 


May brings me the late fall flowers every day, 
and “ time would fail me to tell ” of all the 
gifts and inquiries of my girls and friends in 
Riverside. Mr. Ramsay has been only too 
kind and anxious. Just at this time these 
tokens of affection are inexpressibly sweet ; I 
did not think they cared for me so much. Surely 
I need not be unhappy while life holds so many 
dear ones. And One dearer than all these is 
with me, One who has said : “ I will never 
leave thee, nor forsake thee.” “ Having loved 
Ins’ own which were in the world, he loved 
them unto the end.” Dear J esus, better than any 
earthly friend, always near, never changing ! 
I will stay and work for thee as long as thou 
dost ordain. I may teach some one else what 
this precious love is, and in thine own good 
time I shall go home. 

March 3rd. Mr. Morgan is an ardent lover ; 
having won Katie’s promise to be his, he has no 
mind to wait very long for its fulfilment. We 
have been sewing hard for her for the last two 
months, the preparations are nearly completed 
now, and in two weeks she will be Katie Alison 
no longer. Mother goes back with her ; they 
have never been parted for more than a day, and 
Katie could not leave her mother, even for a 
husband. Arthur (as she says I must call 
him) declares that he “ always saw he must 


DEAD HOPES. 


249 


marry them both, but if they can arrange it he 
will not object.” Katie has “ clone very well,” 
which means, of course, that she will not marry 
a poor man ; but we poor, unworldly women 
think more of the high character and unsullied 
name he bears than of his prosperity in busi- 
ness. He is George’s junior partner. It is 
better certainly that mother should go with 
Katie, who is so young and knows nothing 
about housekeeping, and needs her more than I 
do. I can get along, and Arthur is fond of 
mother and will be able to take care of her 
also. 

Mother says she “ knows she has been a bur- 
den to me, that she will never be strong enough 
to work again, and though it grieves her sorely 
to leave either of her children, she thinks it is 
best to go with Katie. If I am not burdened 
by her or my sister I may form new ties, Mr. 

Ramsay perhaps ” I broke in here with 

a vehement disclaimer of every part of this 
speech; begged her not to talk so and not to 
mention Mr. Ramsay’s name with mine. She 
says she is sorry, for she likes him so much, but 
I “ never did seem to care for any one in that 
way.” 

I am glad mother never guessed my secret ; 
it is easy to keep it now. Perhaps I was head- 
strong. I took the future as well as the pres- 


250 


CROSS ROADS. 


ent into my hands and this is my punishment. 
I was right to give up Horace and to choose 
mother— I shall always think that — but I could 
have given him the hope he asked for. Life is 
not unalterable. God is good and what is not 
possible with men is possible with God. He 
has shown me that, for in less than five years I 
am free. I could have done my present duty, 
but I attempted to rule the future also. Well, 
I am the only sufferer. Horace is happy, per- 
haps more so with a younger, more clinging 
bride than I would have been. His will was 
strong and so was mine. May God bless them 
both ! 

Mar. 14th. The time draws near. Mr. Mor- 
gan has arrived. I like him very much and feel 
that my little sister will be safe in his strong 
hands and heart. He is tall, more “ fine look- 
ing ” than handsome, with a 4 good ’ expression 
that is better than beauty, and a bright, cheery 
way that took me by storm . I can see how Katie 
surrendered after so brief a courtship, and see 
plainly also that it would be simply impossible 
for him to let a thousand miles stretch between 
them very long. He has waited six months and 
he says 'it was like six years, “that he is not a 
bit like Jacob whose 4 seven years seemed but a 
few days it worked just the other way with 
him.” 


DEAD HOPES. 


251 


He is eight years older than Katie, and his 
little bride (to be) thinks everything that ‘ Ar- 
thur ’ says or does is exactly right. Men like 
that kind of woman best, I think. 

Mar. 16th. Evening. It is over and they 
have left us. Mother clung to me at the last 
as if she could not bear to part, and I had to 
cheer her. Katie looked lovely in her bridal 
array, and Arthur so proud and happy that he 
made every one smile. Allan came to perform 
the ceremony and brought Margaret with him 
and little Maggie, the latter a sweet little girl, 
nearly six years old now. Sadie and Frank 
stood with Katie. She wanted me, but I begged 
off. I was too old and too pale yet, I urged. 
Katie allowed it very unwillingly, but it was 
better so ; let those who are young and bright 
stand together, I feel very old now. It was a 
tearful wedding however, for Katie is a favorite 
in Riverside, and all knew it was a long good- 
bye they must say to her ; her own blue eyes 
were full of tears, and I liked my new brother 
best when I saw he did not look impatient of 
those witnesses. As for me I kept up bravely 
until the last moment, that I might not add to 
mother’s sorrow ; but when the last kiss was 
given, the last good-bye spoken, and the car- 
riage wheels rolled away, I ran up to the de- 
serted rooms and gave way to the tears that 


252 


CROSS ROADS. 


were breaking my heart with their pent up 
power. No one came to me for a long time, and 
I cried myself out and regained composure. 
Then Mrs. Chilton came and made me go home 
with her, and they were all very kind and spoke 
cheerfully of Katie and praised Arthur until 
I felt better. Of course I shall go to see her 
some day — next summer they say. It will be 
pleasant. 


CHAPTER XX. 


ANOTHER. MARRIAGE. 

Mar. 27th. Mrs. Chilton insists on my com- 
ing to her altogether now and on terms that 
I could not refuse if I wished. “ Dear Isabel, 
your place has always been here,” she said. “ I 
have loved you almost as my own daughters 
and I want you now. Bessie has left us, Horace 
is far away, only little May is left and she may 
not stay with us much longer.” Her voice 
broke here, as she looked out of the window and 
saw May’s slight figure coming in at the gate 
and heard her dry cough. She turned and put 
out her arms to me with a sad smile, “ I shall 
soon be all alone ; Isabel, will you come ? ” 

I knelt by her side and wound my arms 
round her waist. “ You have always been like 
a mother to me since the day I first came to 
Riverside,” I cried. “ If I can make you any 
happier I will come, and I will never leave you.” 

She held me closer and whispered, “You 
ought to be my daughter, dear. I hoped for so 
long that it might be so, and you are my 
daughter in all but name.” 


(253) 


254 


CROSS ROADS. 


“ Did you know ? ” I asked, faintly. 

“ Did you think that Horace could come home 
from Wareham with that white face, and set 
out in such stern determination for a foreign 
land, and his mother not know the reason ? 
Ah ! child, my heart has ached for you many a 
time, though I did not dare to say a word. You 
kept your own counsel bravely, and I knew that 
you were right and could not do otherwise. I 
could not keep Horace when he told me how it 
stood between you; but my grief was scarcely 
less than yours, dear, and I hoped a few years 
would set it all right.” 

I sprang to my feet at this reminder. 

“We must not talk so,” I said, “I am glad 
that you know, but never let us mention it 
again. He has done right to seek his own hap- 
piness, and I — Oh ! I shall be very happy with 
you — but we must forget all this now.” 

She kissed me and said that was best; she 
was sure I should be happy, I deserved to be, 
and I came away. 

Do I deserve to be happy ? I am afraid not ; 
I am so rebellious at times, because I could not 
order my life my own way. If I cannot be 
happy as I wish, I will not be happy at all. I 
wonder that God can have patience with me 
and still strengthen and comfort me, but, “ Lord, 
thou knowest all things ; thou knowest that 


ANOTHER MARRIAGE. 


255 


I love thee,” with all my wanderings. It will 
not be long ; a few years more of this earthly 
journey and we shall be with him. If life were 
all sorrow, an eternity of joy would far, far more 
than compensate for it. But there is joy here. 
God gives me many blessings, far more than I 
deserve ; and this dear foster-mother’s love and 
home are not the least. 

“ O, pusillanimous heart, he comforted, 

And like a cheerful traveller, take the road, 

Singing beside the hedge. "What if the bread 
Be bitter in thine inn , and thou unshod 
To meet the flints ? At least it may be said : 

‘ Because the way is short, I thank thee, God.’ ” 

April 18th. Mr. Ramsay has spoken again 
and offered me his heart and home once more. 
“ I do not ask for your first love,” he said, “ I 
know that is not for me. I can not offer you my 
first affection ; but are not the love and home I 
offer better than a lonely life? We may be 
happy, Isabel, happier together than apart, even 
if you do not realize your early dream. Can 
you not say yes, dear ? ” 

But I could not. I like him very well but I 
can never like him better, and that is not 
enough for marriage. I am one of those who 
cannot love twice. I think he understands it 
now, but it is very painful to me to grieve him. 


256 


CROSS ROADS. 


May 15th. Spring has come again and the 
miracle of nature is renewed. Year after year 
now I have watched the oaks around the semi- 
nary hang out their golden tassels, and seen the 
maple buds swell into leaf and the willows 
sweep the lawn with their green branches. The 
lawn where we played tennis so merrily long ago 
is as green and sweet as it was then, but the 
players are changed, and scattered. The same 
rose-bushes now blush into beauty from which 
Bessie and I plucked roses to wear so long ago. 
I have learned many lessons since then; and if 
that girlish gayety has gone, I have gained a 
peace far sweeter and more abiding. I have 
had a pleasant, nay a happy winter. 

The old home is very dear. Mrs. Chilton 
clings closer to me as we see our dear little May 
slowly fading before our eyes. Frank is a dear 
brother, the girls at school are my devoted fol- 
lowers, letters from the West tell of Katie’s 
great happiness and mother’s improving health. 
I am busy and useful, and God is near and 
good. 

May 25th. 

“Ia the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnished 
dove, 

In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts 
of love.” 


ANOTHER MARRIAGE. 


257 


Frank came in last night looking so unusually 
bright and happy that I was sure something had 
happened to please him most uncommonly. He 
blushed like a girl when I asked him what had 
happened to put him in such good spirits, and 
laughingly demanded why I had not asked, 
“ Who is she ? ” 

“ You know the legend of the Eastern mon- 
arch who always asked, ‘ Who is she ? ’ declar- 
ing that a woman is always at the bottom of 
everything.” 

“ I have heard the story,” I said ; “ that is a 
very ingenious way of breaking the news to me, 
Mr. Frank, and as you look so happy I pre- 
sume that ‘she’ is propitious; but remember 
unless she is very good I shall not give my con- 
sent.” 

“ Oh, but I am sure you will,” he replied, and 
drawing me to the sofa as of old he told me his 
story in a down-right, manly fashion. It is as 
I have hoped of late ; he has known Sadie’s 
lovely character and seen her sweet face too of- 
ten not to be won b}^ it, and he loves her truly. 
She is just suited to Frank ; her thoughtfulness 
and sweet, quiet ways are just what are needed 
to balance his fun and high spirits, and there is 
a sound foundation to both on which they meet 
on common ground. I do not know of any- 
thing more entirely satisfactory. Dear child, 

17 


258 


CROSS ROADS. 


slie will have a home of her own now, where 
she will be loved and cherished as she de- 
serves. 

June 5th. Bessie has come for a visit at 
4 home ’ with her baby, — the first grand-child ; 
how delighted and how proud they all are of 
him ! May sits with him in her arms as long as 
w^e will allow her, and is never weary of him, 
and baby seems to know what is required of 
him and is always good with her. Bessie is the 
prettiest, gayest little mother, yet devoted to 
her child; it seems as if her character had 
waited for this mother-love for its full develop- 
ment. He is named Horace Chilton Howland, 
but as yet is “baby” only. His “grandma” 
holds him to her heart with a look of love, 
which tells how dearly she loved her own son, 
now so far distant. Letters come regularly from 
him to her, but his name is seldom mentioned 
in my hearing. 

June 13th. Frank is pushing matters vigor- 
ously ; he means to have Sadie in the fall. They 
have bought the little cottage which mother and 
I had, and Mr. Ashmun is enlarging and improv- 
ing it, putting another porch here, a bay window 
there, and an addition to the rear. They have 
taken in part of the next lot so as to have more 
room and a larger garden. Sadie said no place 
had ever seemed so much like home to her as 


ANOTHER MARRIAGE. 


259 


this, so Frank declares she shall “ try it again.” 
It will be a perfect gem of a house for a young 
couple, when it is finished. Mr. Ashmun is 
liberal and will furnish it beautifully. Sadie is 
his only daughter and he has never been able to 
do for her as he wished at home ; so he is trying 
to make up for it now. I suspect Mrs. Ashmun 
would stay his hand, if she' could see all he is 
doing, but for once Sadie is first. Dear child, 
she has done nobly at home among many diffi- 
culties and she deserves to be happy now. 
Frank and I go every week to make a tour of 
the house and see how it is progressing. I tell 
Sadie it would not do to keep him waiting 
long. 

July 13th. I shall not have my visit to 
Chicago this summer. Dear May is failing so 
fast that I cannot leave her. She does not quit 
the house now, except to take a drive with her 
father occasionally. We all know that she is 
going and we cannot sorrow for her ; she has no 
pain, no doubts, she “ is only going home first,” 
she says, and we have felt and known it so long 
that the sharpness of grief seems to be past 
already. How strangely joy and sorrow are 
mingled in our life ! 

Aug. 3rd. These words suit May exactly, I 
could give no better description of her : 


260 


CROSS ROADS. 


“ Each day her smile grew fainter and sweeter, saintlier 
grew, 

As day by day we saw the soul fast burning into view ; 
And higher, each day higher, did the life flame heavenward 
climb, 

Like sad, sweet sunshine on the wall, that for the evening 
time, 

Still watches, till the signal that shall call it home is 
given, 

Even so her spirit kept the watch till summoned home to 
heaven.” 

Sept. 2nd. The ‘ signal ’ has been ‘ given” 
and our little May has answered it and gone to 
her heavenly home. W e had long known that 
we could not keep her and I had imagined the 
final farewell would not have been felt so 
sharply; but I was mistaken. It was indeed 
said calmly, but after she was gone we missed 
her — Oh, so sorely ! I can hardly yet bear to 
enter the room where she lay. The house is 
very lonely without her. She did not suffer 
much, even at the last the golden cord was 
loosed so gently it did not give her pain. She 
did not keep her bed for a day but passed away 
in the big easy chair with her mother’s arms 
around her. It was at sunset on a bright, 
beautiful day that we stood around her to say 
good-bye, and the glorious rays of the Sun of 
Righteousness lit up the dark valley as she 
entered it and she had no thought of fear. 


ANOTHER MARRIAGE. 


261 


“ Perhaps I shall not see you in the morning,” 
she said, “so I think I will say ‘good-bye’ 
to-night. When you see that sun so glorious 
and bright,” pointing her slender finger toward 
it, “ think that I am where they need no sun, 
for the glory of God doth lighten it. Don’t 
cry, Bessie, you will come too, and we shall 
be all so happy together, Frank and Isabel, 
mamma and papa. Tell Horace his little May 
did not forget him. I shall see him again some 
day.” 

She was silent for a moment, then laid her 
head back on her mother’s breast. “ It is get- 
ting dark, I think I will sleep awhile,” she said ; 
her eyes closed and in a few moments gently 
and sweetly as an infant she slept indeed — but 
it was on her Saviour’s bosom. 

“And while the sun in all his state, 

Illumed the western skies, 

She passed through glory’s golden gate, 

And waked in Paradise.” 

Sept. 25th. Yesterday Sadie and Frank were 
married ; a grand wedding in her city home. 
Such was the wish of* her father, and Mrs. Ash- 
mun seconded it and made it the occasion of a 
great display. She has been very gracious to 
Sadie for some time past and it pleased Sadie to 
leave her father’s home so happily. She looked 


262 


CROSS ROADS. 


very fair in her white satin and orange blossoms ; 
but all the outward splendor did not touch the 
sweetness and serenity of her face. She is 
more at home in her quiet little nook here which 
already we have christened the “Dovecote.” 
Frank was very handsome and radiant and bore 
his honors well. Every one speaks well of him 
now and predicts a happy future for the young 
couple. He is truly a fine fellow and I am 
proud of him. May God indeed grant them his 
choicest blessings ! 

Of all the gay young party that first year at 
Riverside I am the only one left in the nest ; 
Horace, Bessie, Frank and May are gone. I 
begin to feel old — nearly twenty-five, the first 
corner ” is passed. 


CHAPTER XXL 


GOOD BYE TO OLD SCENES. 

Feb. 15th. My life has flowed so evenly and 
quietly for some time past that I thought its 
waters were settled forever ; but now an event 
is to occur that must ruffle its surface consider- 
ably. Horace Chilton is coming home. His 
father, the dear doctor, declares that he is grow- 
ing old and wants to rest ; he is as active and 
cheerful as ever outwardly, but the grey hairs 
have thickened on his head since little May died, 
and it is but right that he should rest now and 
not be called out at all times of night. It was 
always his wish to give up his practice to his 
son, and the time seems to have come now. 
The five years’ partnership into which Horace 
entered terminates this year ; he writes that his 
wife’s health is rather delicate and he thinks a 
more Northern climate would benefit her ; so all 
unite to bring him back to Riverside. He has 
gained much experience in his profession, and 
considerable money, and his wife has a small 
fortune of her own ; so he returns home with some 
reputation to succeed to his father’s position. 

( 263 ) 


264 


CROSS ROADS. 


Dr. Chilton is much pleased and Mrs. Chilton’s 
mild eyes light up with joy at the prospect of 
greeting again her only and beloved son. It is 
better so. Bessie’s visits are less frequent, now 
that she has two little ones in her nursery, and 
when I see how the grand-parents delight in 
little Horace’s bright sayings, and allow baby 
Alice to tyrannize over them, I am glad to think 
that Horace will bring up his family by their 
side. It will bring new life into the old home- 
stead which has been darkened and quiet of 
late years. 

Of myself I say nothing ; but I see that this 
will make an entire change in my life. I shall 
no longer be needed here when Horace and his 
wife come ; in fact I should be decidedly out of 
place. Clara will take my place as a daughter 
to Mrs. Chilton and I shall be absolved from 
my promise. In fact, much as it grieves me to 
see it, I think that m} r work in Riverside is 
ended. Mrs. Chilton needs me no longer, dear 
little May is safe in heaven, Frank and Sadie 
are sufficient to each other in their happy home 
— what need of Isabel Alison any longer ? To 
be sure there is my school ; the girls are as fond 
of me as ever and I can find a good work there, 
but I have been thinking for some time that 
some one else could carry on my work there 
better than myself. For Mr. Ramsay’s sake I 


GOOD BYE TO OLD SCENES. 


265 


feel that I had better go, — all else combining. 
When I am no longer here he may turn to some 
one else, as Horace did. I shall go to mother 
and Katie this summer, that is promised at any 
rate — and if they wish (as I know they do) 
that I remain West, I will try to obtain a situ- 
ation there and not return to Riverside. I do 
not wish to be here when Horace returns — not 
that I could not meet him calmly — he is the 
husband of another and that dream of my youth 
has faded like many others — but it will be bet- 
ter for all that I should be gone. 

April 5th. It breaks my heart to think of 
leaving Riverside ; yet my determination gath- 
ers force the more I think of it. I shall say 
nothing except to Mr. Ramsay and Mrs. Chil- 
ton; I could not bear to say good-bye. If I do 
not return, it will be time enough then to say 
farewell. Ah ! how I dread this facing the 
world again. I have had such a pleasant home 
here for the past five years! Never have I so 
taken root before ; it is indeed like tearing the 
roots out of my life to give up my dear friends, 
my school-girls and all the associations of the 
last year; and for what? An uncertainty, I 
know not what, yet that way duty leads and 
I must follow. The path will open before me 
doubtless; how can I think otherwise, for I 
have carried this matter unto the Lord and my 


266 


CROSS ROADS. 


heart assures me that I am right. “ Commit thy 
way unto the Lord; trust also in him ; and he 
shall bring it to pass.” 

June 1st. I have spoken to Mr. Ramsay and 
to Mrs. Chilton. I gave him no reason save 
my wish to rejoin my mother and sister. Of 
course he could make no reply save to express 
polite regret at my loss, which I know is also 
sincere ; but I see I am right, it is better so for 
him, if not for me. Mrs. Chilton said little but 
held me fast for some minutes while tears gath- 
ered in her dear eyes, “ I feared it would be so,” 
she said at length, “my son’s return must cost 
me a daughter, but I cannot blame you, dear. 
If not for your own sake — ” She did not fin- 
ish the sentence but she did not bid me stay ; 
the situation would be awkward for all, and I 
see she thinks of Horace and his wife also. It 
is right I should give way to them. 

Afterwards she said, “ Clara can never take 
your place, Isabel ; you have been one of us in 
our joy and our sorrow, you dearly loved and 
tended my precious little May, and you are like 
my own. You must never forget us or count 
this other than your home.” 

1 shall tell no one else until I am gone ; the 
parting will be easier to bear if they think I am 
to return in the fall. It breaks my heart to 
think I shall see them no more. Frank and 


GOOD BYE TO OLD SCENES. 


267 


Sadie, so joyous in their new home, so dear and 
fond to me always, Mrs. Chilton, my dear fos- 
ter-mother, the old home where my joy and 
sorrow met me, even the walks and trees, the 
flowers in the garden, my old desk and seat in 
the Academy, the merry faces and affectionate 
words of the girls, all breathe an unconscious 
farewell. 

June 13th. Twenty-five to-day. I have told 
no one ; they do not remember it and I am 
glad. As this chapter in my life closes there is 
so much to look back upon and remember — so 
much to forget ! And I cannot as yet look for- 
ward, the way is dark ahead. Still I go on, 
boldly, for I feel it is God’s hand that leadeth 


“ Sometimes ’mid scenes of deepest gloom, 
Sometimes where Eden’s bowers bloom, 

By waters still, o’er troubled sea, — 

Still ’tis God’s band that leadeth me ! ” 

School closed to-day — the last time for me, 
though only two of us knew of it and we gave 
no sign of the fact. The girls gave me many 
little tokens of affection, many flowers and words 
of affectionate good-bye, which were more than 
usually precious, though I endeavored not to 
let them see my feelings, and in the general 
joyousness a grave look was unheeded. 


268 


CROSS ROADS. 


I start for Chicago in two clays. I could not 
endure a longer farewell, they would surely 
find me out. Frank looks keenly at me already 
and declares he does not believe I want to go 
very much, I had much better stay with them. 

A fond farewell from both Dr. and Mrs. 
Chilton ; she said, “ my dear, dear child, you 
must come back to us some day.” 

Riverside, my dear, dear home, good-bye, 
— good-bye. 

July 6th. I am in Chicago at last, the busy, 
bustling, western city. After two days of 
rapid traveling behind the fiery monster that 
devoured the miles as morsels, I came safely at 
last to the city on the shores of the great lake. 
The journey was a pleasure to me, the first long 
one I had ever taken, but I did not feel at all 
timid about taking it alone. The first day was 
all delightful, the air cool and bracing, the sky 
cloudless, and all Nature fresh in her June 
beauty. We hurried through smiling land- 
scapes like pictures, now winding through a 
lovely valley, or over wide rolling rivers, anon 
rising in zig-zag curves to the summits of steep 
forest-clad mountains or dashing through dark 
damp tunnels; each new and varied scene call- 
ing forth fresh exclamations of delight. It 
was on the edge of evening when we drew 
near Niagara, and I found we had nearly two 


GOOD BYE TO OLD SCENES. 269 

hours to wait for the connecting train. It was 
impossible to sit in the depot when there was a 
chance of a glimpse at the great falls, however 
hurried. This was a pleasure I had not antic- 
ipated, but I hastened to avail myself of it. I 
easily procured a hackman who promised me a 
view of the falls and a return in good time for 
the train. The sun had just set, but enough of 
light still lingered in the sky to give me a tol- 
erably good view of the great cataract. I 
alighted from the carriage, walked out (on the 
Canada side,) to a situation from which I could 
see plainly and there stood in silence for some 
minutes, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the 
scene, the mighty, rushing torrent of water. I 
will not attempt a description of what others 
have told so much better than I can. One 
thought silenced all others as I stood there, 
“ The Lord God omnipotent reigneth.” “ And 
I heard as it were the voice of a great mul- 
titude, and as the voice of many waters, and as 
the voice of mighty thunderings, saying, Alle- 
luia : for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.” 

We returned to the depot in time and I took 
my sleeper, but passed a restless night. The 
second day was much less pleasant than the 
first ; the day was much warmer, I was fatigued 
by a day’s travel and a sleepless night, the 
scenery was far less interesting, flat or slightly 


270 


CROSS ROADS. 


rolling prairie-land though now dotted with 
thriving towns and farms. At its close we 
arrived safely in Chicago, and I found Arthur 
Morgan waiting to welcome me. He put me in 
a cab and in a short time I was in mother’s 
arms, while Katie stood beside me waiting for 
her turn and eager to exhibit the little white 
bundle she held in her arms, my darling little 
name-child of whose charms I had heard so 
much ; nor was I disappointed in her. 

I have been here three weeks and should be 
ungrateful, indeed, if I did not enjoy myself. 
I “ take solid comfort ” with mother and Katie, 
and have found others also near and dear. 
They seem to indulge a delusion that I am 
something extraordinary. I find that 4 Isabel ’ 
has been looked for most anxiously, and many 
plans of pleasure postponed until I arrived. 
Mother looks ‘better than I remember seeing 
her since my childhood ; she seems perfectly 
happy helping Katie in her household affairs 
and petting “ Baby Belle.” Arthur is bright 
and cordial as ever, and thinks there never was 
such a wife and baby as his. I have seen one 
or two young husbands indulge in that blissful 
belief before, but am not disposed to dispute the 
point. Their home is bright and cozy. Katie 
has only to express a wish in order to have it 
gratified. Some people seem born to go 


GOOD BYE TO OLD SCEN’ES. 271 

through life easily and happily. Katie has 
always been of that favored number and bids 
fair to continue so while God -spares to her her 
noble husband and precious child. She could 
not understand the struggles through which I 
have passed ; may she never do so ! George 
has quite a family ; his wife is a stirring, ener- 
getic woman, caring for little outside of her 
own family, which she manages admirably. She 
received me cordially, and I am quite at home 
there. 

Mary, the eldest daughter, has fallen deeply 
in love with her Aunt Isabel. She is a quiet, 
thoughtful girl of fifteen — (to think I should 
have a niece of that age whom I have never 
seen ! ). I am growing very fond of her. Then 
there is George the younger, curly-haired Car- 
rie and little Harry. They make me more than 
welcome, and I am doubly glad that I have 
made this visit and found so many of my own 
kin whom I can love. Both Katie and mother 
strongly urge my remaining here altogether, 
and the united voice of the two families ex- 
presses the same idea. I do not say them nay ; 
time will show what is best. 

July 12th. The city is hot and sultry and 
Arthur is anxious to get Katie and the baby out 
of town for the summer. I do not wonder at 
it , for so many years now I have been accus- 


272 


CROSS ROADS. 


tomed to the beauty and greenness of the sum- 
mer that I find the closely built streets and 
houses very oppressive. I want to walk in the 
garden or sit in the porch with my book or 
work, or gather the flowers while the morning 
dew is fresh upon them ; here there are no such 
innocent pleasures. Then the Sundays — one 
does not realize half one’s blessings until they 
are removed. Our peaceful, quiet Sabbaths at 
Riverside, how little I appreciated them ! the 
walk to church along the shady village streets, 
the pleasant chat with friends to and fro, the 
long quiet afternoons for reading or thought, 
how pleasant they were ! Here the streets are 
filled with a motley, hurrying throng, some 
church-goers indeed, many on their way to the 
parks for a day’s picnic ; saloons open, parties 
of workingmen (mostly foreigners) parading the 
the streets, often with bands of music and ban- 
ners, much beer-drinking and frolicing. Such 
is the “ continental Sunday ” which here al- 
most displaces our American Sabbath. It is 
new to me and I am saddened and distressed by 
it. Can our land continue to prosper while the 
laws of God and man are so set at defiance ? 

July 15th. It is arranged at last. Arthur 
has found a place where we are all to go and 
enjoy the rest of the summer. He can run up 
two or three times a week, and always spend 


GOOD BYE TO OLD SCENES. 


273 


Sunday with us. Katie does not like to leave 
him alone but consents on baby’s account. We 
are to go to Lake Forest, a beautiful place about 
twenty-five miles from the city. Katie and I 
were out yesterday and engaged our rooms. It 
is a lovely spot, a park in fact with beautiful 
dwellings dotted here and there ; much shaded 
as its name indicates and with lovely walks and 
drives. There is a college here and we have 
rooms in the house of one of the professors now 
absent on his vacation. Baby Belle can live 
out of doors, and we shall all enjoy the sum- 
mer’s outing. Arthur is as good to mother as if 
he were her own son and never lets her feel any 
difference, and he insists on taking me on similar 
terms. As I am a visitor this summer, and he 
can well afford it, I “ take the goods the gods 
provide,” and am thankful. 

18 


CHAPTER XXII. 


NEW OPENINGS. 

Lake Forest, July 18th. We are settled 
here for six weeks at least. There are a few 
other boarders in the house. With one of them 
I am greatly ‘taken’; she is a Miss Wilmot, a 
young lady nearly my own age, very bright and 
pleasant and with manners at once cordial and 
charming. I hear she is a teacher among the 
Indians, a missionary in fact, and is here to re- 
cruit after a hard winter’s work amid her pu- 
pils. I shall cultivate her acquaintance. She is 
enthusiastic about her work and eager to talk 
to any one who will listen, and I shall like to 
hear more about a work in which I am inter- 
ested and which promises so well. 

July 21st. Sunday night there was no serv- 
ice in the little church here and it was pro- 
posed to have sacred music in the parlor. I 
agreed to play and lead the singing, and a pleas- 
ant group soon gathered around the piano. 
Among them came Miss Wilmot and I discov- 
ered that she sang well and was versed in church 
music ; so we soon made friends in selecting our 

( 274 ) 


NEW OPENINGS. 275 

favorite hymns. Among them we came at last 
to “ Jesus, lover of my soul.” 

“ Oh, you should hear my Indian girls sing 
that ! ” she exclaimed, with sparkling eyes. 
“ Some of their voices are really good and they 
are very fond of music and easily trained. You 
can imagine what a delight it is to hear their 
voices which are so harsh and untrained when 
they come to us, most of them entirely igno- 
rant of the simplest truths of Christianity, and 
then ere long to see them tamed and softened, 
singing the sweet gospel words and tunes.” 

“It must indeed be a gratification,” I re- 
plied, “ I wish you would tell me more of your 
Indian school. I should like to know of its 
workings and hear how your girls compare with 
ours in their readiness to receive instructions. 
I am a teacher also.” 

“ Indeed ! I did not know it, but I should 
like nothing better than to tell you; the results 
are far more surprising than you can think and 
more gratifying than in ordinary teaching. You 
can trace the improvement here from the very 
beginning.” 

We had left the piano by this time and I led 
the way to the porch where we sat down and 
had a long conversation. 

“ I suppose they come to you very ignorant,” 
I began. 


276 


CROSS ROADS. 


“ You can have no idea. They are not .only 
ignorant but stupid, degraded. Oh ! if you could 
see their faces when they came to us, dull, dark, 
without a trace of intelligence or feeling — and 
then in a month or two see the same faces 
with the light of hope beaming in the eyes, 
intelligence awakening, affection and gratitude 
dawning in the hearts so cold and emotionless 
hitherto! If you could hear them repeat the 
Lord’s Prayer, and see what it is to them to get 
their first idea that they have a Father in 
heaven who cares for them, an elder Brother 
who died to save them from their sins ! Oh, it 
is worth a life time of labor to give such light 
to even one soul — and there we have fifty, and 
hope to have many more.” 

Her eloquence and enthusiasm affected me 
strongly ; to teach such souls did indeed seem a 
life worth living, and I said so. 

“ Oh, why can’t you come and help me ? ” she 
cried, eagerly, “ I am looking for some one to go 
back with me next October, and you would be 
just the one I think: young, of good health are 
you not ? — accustomed to teaching, and musical 
also. You could train those girls to sing so 
beautifully, could teach them all the daily lessons 
of simple living and education, could tell them 
‘ the old, old story, of Jesus and his love.’ Can 
you not come? I verily believe God has 


NEW OPENINGS. 277 

brought us together here in answer to my 
prayers.” 

The idea was so new to me and she spoke so 
rapidly, so eagerly, that I had no reply ready ; 
yet it came to me like a flash of light on my 
uncertain future and I felt a strong longing to 
engage in such earnest Christian work. 

“You know so little of me,” I faltered, “you 
do not know whether I am fitted for such a work, 
and I am so ignorant of its requirements.” 

“ Oh, as to that I can talk all day and all night 
and fully post you on all points,” she replied, 
laughing. “My friends think I am ‘Indian 
mad,’ but as for yourself I can see that you are 
a lady, young and cultivated, a Christian, I 
know by your singing to-night. If you are able 
to teach American girls you certainly can teach 
Indians. Think it over ; if you feel any willing- 
ness to engage in such work or are free to do 
so, I shall believe that God sent me here for this 
very thing. I have been praying ever since I 
left Muscogee that he would give me a helper, 
and you are the first one I have met who has 
appeared at all responsive or suitable. And I 
shall like you,” she continued, earnestly, “ I have 
a secret divining rod and I can always tell a 
soul akin to mine. We should be happy 
together, I am sure.” 

I promised “ to think it over,” and we sepa- 


278 


CROSS ROADS. 


rated. I have thought of little else since. Can 
it be that God has led me here to meet Miss 
Wilmot, and to open to me a new field of labor ? 
The prospect draws me strongly : I have noth- 
ing to hold me back ; no one claims me now, I 
have my own life to live and only myself to pro- 
vide for ; can I do better than dedicate myself 
thus to him? How sweet to give myself 
entirely to his service, and in all my work 
and teaching to feel that I was doing it directly 
for the Lord ! It is poor work, this living for 
one’s self; I have never done so really, and now 
that all human claims are removed I am free to 
respond to a higher call. Is this what God 
meant when one after one those links were 
loosed which bound me so closely and to which 
I clung so tenaciously ? Was this why I left 
Riverside and came to Lake Forest ? It is like 
a clue to the labyrinth, and I feel light and joy 
breaking in on me at the thought. My life may 
not be spent in vain yet ; my best work may lie 
before me. I must think well before I decide. 

I came upon these lines to-day — can I appro- 
priate them ? 

“Jesus came 

And laid liis own hand on the quivering heart, 

And made it very still, that he might write 
Invisible words of power — “ Free to serve,” 

And lit up all her life with radiance new, — 

The happy service of a yielded heart. 


NEW OPENINGS. 


279 


Not only by reclaiming his good gifts, 

But by witholding, doth the Master write 
These words upon the heart. Where’er he finds 
A tablet empty for the ‘ lines left out,’ 

That “ might have been ” engraved with human love 
And sweetest human cares, yet never bore 
That poetry of life, his own dear hand 
Writes “Free to serve.” And these clear characters 
Fill with fair colors all the unclaimed space, 

Else gray and colorless.” 

Aug. 2nd. A week has passed, full of anxious 
thought, and much conversation with Miss 
Wilmot. At last I opened my heart to mother 
and told her my wish. I had almost forgotten 
how many years she had been a minister’s wife ; 
but her reception of my confidence reminded 
me, and filled my heart with joy. 

“ My dear child, you must do what you think is 
best, praying to know God’s will. I sometimes 
fear I have stood in your way before, and I shall 
not put any obstacles in your path now. It is 
what your father would have approved, such 
work as he loved ; and should I keep back his 
child from following in his footsteps because of 
any sacrifice it must cost me ? ” 

I had not looked for sueh a full consent ; it 
set my heart at ease and made me very happy. 
After all it is not likely I could have remained 
with mother. It is hardly further to the Indian 
Territory than to the East, and hearts are not 


280 


CROSS ROADS. 


separated by miles in these days of railroads 
and letter writing. I did so dread the thought 
of facing the world again, of making a place for 
myself — alone — never could I hope for such a 
home as at Riverside, but this seems different. 
Now I am to help make a home for others, 
needy and uncared for ; and with Miss W. as 
my companion I feel sure of success. Her 
bright, hopeful nature is just what I need. I 
fear I have grown too introspective and de- 
spondent, but she inspires me with fresh hope 
and youth. 

I asked her how she came to speak to me so 
confidently, stranger as I was. 

“ Ah ! but you were not such a stranger to 
me as you imagine,” she replied archly. “Re- 
member you had been here some days before I 
spoke so, and I had observed you closely. I 
noticed your tender care of your mother — (I 
have lost mine) — I knew you were fond of chil- 
dren by the way you talked and played with 
your baby niece ; then when you went to the 
piano and led the singing I saw not only that 
you were a musician, but that you were capable 
of taking the lead and were accustomed to 
direct others. But the first thing that led me 
to think of you ” — and she laughed merrily — 
“ was that I saw you were not afraid of bugs ! ” 


NEW OPENINGS. 281 

“ Bugs ! ” I exclaimed. “ What has that to do 
with it ? ” 

“A great deal, as you will soon find out,” 
she said, more seriously. “ One day as you sat 
on the lawn, a bug of some species, I did not 
see what, crawled into your lap ; and instead of 
screaming and jumping up and begging some 
one to “ take it off ” — as the average young 
lady would do, of course, you quietly disposed 
of it yourself. I said to myself then, ‘ Oh, if I 
could get her to go back with me ! ’ You do 
not know what I have gone through with those 
‘wild Indians’ as your brother-in-law calls them. 
The places they live in ! — they are not homes 
— where you must crawl in on your hands and 
knees and sit on the earth floor, while you beg 
the old squaws to let you have their children to 
teach. Then the condition of those girls when 
they first come to us. The first thing we do 
is to get them to the bath-room. Then, after a 
thorough bath, hair-dressing or cutting — if they 
will — and a change of clean garments, they are 
fit to come into our dining and sleeping-rooms. 
Ah, a strong-minded disregard of bugs or of ver- 
min of many kinds is a prime qualification for 
success, as you will find.” 

I laughed, but confessed that the prospect 
was not very inviting. 

“ No, but I do not want you to look only on 


282 


CROSS ROADS. 


the romantic side of the question,” she contin- 
ued, u there is a stern, practical side which 
must be thoroughly considered as well. You 
must be prepared for many sacrifices and hard- 
ships. I do not feel them so much, for the joy 
in the work and the good done to the needy 
more than compensates me for all; but you must 
understand all before you decide.” 

I have considered : I did not look for a bed 
of roses, and I refuse to be turned back even 
by bugs ; so we are more at one than ever. 

Aug. 10th. Miss Wilmot has left us to visit 
friends elsewhere, but I am to write to her ; 
and if I keep of the same mind she will meet 
me in Chicago next month and we will go out 
to Indian Territory together. Friends think it 
well I should be left alone for a while before a 
too final decision, and I want to have these 
weeks entirely alone with mother and Katie. 
It may be long before we meet again. George 
has warned me against being “ carried away by 
enthusiasm.” 

“But what is enthusiasm good for if not to 
‘ carry you away ? ’ ” I demanded, “ will it be of 
any use if you wait for it to cool ? It is like the 
boiling water that makes the steam — the motive 
power of this nineteenth century — good for 
nothing if not used at the moment of its great- 


NEW OPENINGS. 


283 


est heat. It is made to ‘ carry you away.’ En- 
thusiasm moves the world.” 

“ Well said ! ” cried Arthur, who pretends to 
laugh at us and call us “ wild Indians,” but 
seriously thinks well of the undertaking. 

Aug. 12th. He has made me a most kind and 
generous offer. Last night he asked me to take 
a walk with him to view the sunset, and as usual 
we talked “ Indian.” “ Isabel, I have a pro- 
posal to make to you,” he said seriously, “ you 
must know that I have been out among those 
Indian tribes and I know well the need of some 
such training as you propose to give in your 
school. I have seen the neglected and degrad- 
ed condition of the women and girls, and wished 
something could be done for them. Now it has 
been my custom each year to lay aside one tenth 
of my income, at least, for purposes of charity 
• — the Lord’s tithe ; and I should like to give 
you one fourth of it for your work. Last year 
I put aside four hundred dollars — that would 
give you one hundred. It is not much, but if 
I prosper as I hope, it will be more next year. 
I have one proviso to make however — it is to be 
your own, personal money, to be used first for 
your own comfort and pleasure in the school, 
or for any special case which you may wish to 
relieve but may not be able to do so from the 
general fund.” 


284 


CROSS ROADS. 


I thanked him with a full heart, my generous, 
noble minded brother. 

We walked to a slight eminence from which 
we beheld a magnificent sight. There had been 
two or three dull, rainy days ; but the sun came 
out with a sudden burst just before dusk and 
scattered the clouds to right and left in a hurry, 
and there was the whole sky ablaze with a glo- 
rious sunset of blue and gold. Such deep, clear, 
beautiful blue, you seemed to see thousands of 
miles through that dazzling bright ether! Just 
above hung a bank of billowy golden clouds — 
now they drift a little apart, they catch the 
golden glory yet more on their fleecy edges — 
it is indeed “ a sea of glass mingled with fire.” 
I watched it as if spell-bound till the glory be- 
gan to fade, the great waves changed to a deep 
rose color, tinged with smoke, then as the sun 
dipped still lower a dull olive grey settled over 
all. 

So does God work, I thought, as I turned 
away ; so swiftly, so easily. “ Let there be 
light ” — and the dull, sodden grey changes at 
the word to a dazzling sea of blue and gold. 
Man makes “ a thing of beauty,” with much 
effort and at great cost ; a picture perhaps 
which only a few can see or enjoy, but God 
makes a whole heaven full of beauty with no 
such restrictions. He that hath eyes to see, 


NEW OPENINGS. 


285 


let him see — the glory is there for all who will 
raise their eyes to behold it, rich or poor, good or 
evil. A new light shone upon the words, “ He 
maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


AMONG THE INDIANS. 

Sept. 5th. Again in Chicago. Our summer 
of rest is over and now I am in full tide of prep- 
aration for Muscogee. Miss Wilmot will meet 
me here in about three weeks and we go out 
immediately. 

A letter fronj Riverside yesterday — a perfect 
“ howl ” from Frank, Sadie and the girls. They 
had no idea I was not coming back until a week 
ago, when I wrote Sadie of my plans. She 
says, “ The girls are all disconsolate and say they 
will never like the new teacher, but I gave them 
your message and they are rather less rebellious 
now, though determined they ‘ shall never like 
her as they did Miss Alison.’ Frank sends a 
great many fierce messages and vows ‘ war to 
the knife on all Apaches, Pimas, etc.,’ — but I 
tell him he must write his own opinions. I have 
no doubt you are right, and are sure you will 
be happy and successful — but I shall miss you 
sorely. Riverside will not be the same with- 
out you,” etc., etc. , 

Dear girl ! I am glad she loves me, but she 
( 286 ) 


AMONG THE INDIANS. 


287 


will soon learn to do without me;- her home 
and husband will be her world now. Later she 
wrote, “ Horace Chilton has returned home 
with a fair, delicate little wife and a sweet baby 
about six months old. It is pretty to see Mrs. 
Chilton, his mother, show her pride and 
pleasure in him and the little one. They call 
her ‘ May,’ and I hope she will make up in a 
degree for the dear May who has gone higher. 
The old house is more cheerful with young 
faces and voices about it once more, and young 
Mrs. Chilton is quite a favorite already with 
the doctor ; he always wanted some one to pet 
and has missed it since his own daughters went 
away. Clara is gentle and yielding, defers com- 
pletely to her mother-in-law’s judgment, and 
quotes, ‘ Horace’s ’ sayings as her law and 
gospel. I shall make friends with her easily, I 
know.” 

So Riverside will not miss me much. I need 
not have broken my heart at leaving. All is 
well there and I was right to come away. I 
trust I have found my life work now. Mem- 
ory goes back over the past years and I do not 
wish them changed ; they have lost all their bit- 
terness, and I can see that the hand of Love 
was leading me all the way. Often the path 
seemed dark and strangely crooked ; one road 
that looked fair and pleasant was crossed ab- 


288 


CROSS ROADS. 


ruptly by a darker, rougher one, and I mur- 
mured at the change. But as I pressed on, this 
too was altered. “ Cross Roads,” I thought 
them, but I see now that they were only steps 
in my life’s journey and led me onward and 
upward to the light. 

“ Then be content, poor heart, 

God’s plans, like lilies, pure and white unfold ; 

We may not tear the close shut leaves apart, 

Time will reveal their calyxes of gold; 

And if by patient faith we reach the land, 

Where tired feet with sandals loose, may rest, 

Where we can clearly see and understand, 

I think that we shall say, ‘ He knew the best.’ ” 

Muscogee, Oct. 5th. We arrived here yes- 
terday, rather tired after our long journey, but 
in excellent health and spirits. To-day I have 
been “ taking notes.” I am much pleased with 
the neat arrangement of rooms, the long dining 
hall and the dormitory with its row of white 
beds. Miss Wilmot says when the girls first 
came, teachers had some difficulty in persuad- 
ing them that these beds were for them to sleep 
in. Unless closely watched they would take a 
blanket, wrap it around them and lie down un- 
der the bed. Now they make the beds them- 
selves as nicely as possible, and keep the rooms 
in order. The nice, light bread we eat at the 
table is the work of the girls also. It is in fact 


AMONG THE INDIANS. 


289 


an industrial school where they are taught to 
cook, sew their own clothes, and do all the 
many things necessary to keep house, as well 
as to read, write, study, etc. Miss Wilmot 
conducts prayers and reads the Bible night and 
morning ; the pupils all attend and appear much 
interested. They greeted her with every mani- 
festation of joy and affection, and indeed in 
many respects reminded me of my own girls at 
Riverside. 

“Why not?” said Miss Wilmot. “They 
are human beings — girls — having like capabil- 
ities and affections; only no one has cared to 
develop them before.” 

Some of the girls have such nice, bright faces, 
and they seem so happy to be back here again 
and to see their teacher. She showed me a 
photograph of some of them taken a year ago, 
when they were first brought in — but I should 
not have recognized the originals, so great was 
the improvement ; from stolidity and dull indif- 
ference to intelligence, hope and cheerfulness. 
It was like the body without a soul, and then 
the soul brought into it ; the light of “the Sun 
of Righteousness, . . . with healing in his wings,” 
upon the minds darkened by centuries of neg- 
lect, oppression and misery. It is a blessed 
work and I thank God daily that he has seen 
fit to entrust me with it. I cannot talk to the 

19 


290 


CROSS ROADS. 


new girls, but, in those who have been here a 
time and have learned to speak English I find 
ready listeners. 

Sunday, Oct. 8th. This evening we had all 
the girls in the school-room, and after a short 
Bible lesson they sang many of the hymns 
they have learned, while I led them for the first 
time. It was sweet to hear “Rock of Ages, 
cleft for me,” or “ Jesus, lover of my soul,” or 
“All hail the power of Jesus’ name,” from the 
lips of those, who until so lately had known 
nothing of these blessed truths. Now their 
eyes glowed with feeling, their voices rang out 
in glad, triumphant notes, and I was assured 
that many of them sang, “ with the spirit, and 
with the understanding also.” 

“One more day’s work for Jesus ; 

How sweet the work has been, 

To tell the story, to show the glory, 

When Christ’s flock enter in. 

Lord, if I may, I’ll serve another day.” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


TWO YEARS LATER. 

To-day in looking over some books I came 
across this old Journal brought with me to 
Muscogee, and kept through all the years of 
my girlhood. How strange the old life seems 
to me in looking back over it! So many things 
that were very bitter to me then now seem like 
a dream. I am entirely too busy now to waste 
so much time and thought on myself. Each day 
brings its ever recurring duties; so many to 
look to me for direction or counsel, so much to 
do, and when all is done I am too weary for 
much thought, too tired to write. Am I 
happy? Well, I have no time to think about 
that ; I am surely blessed. My work here has 
prospered beyond my hopes ; I have seen the 
Spirit of God enter hearts that were dull, hard, 
ignorant and degraded and transform them 
into abodes of light, hope and usefulness. I 
have seen the filthy and repulsive changed into 
bright, neat and attractive girls and women, and 
go - forth to be centres of light and refinement 

( 291 ) 


292 


CROSS ROADS. 


in other homes. Are not such returns a suffi- 
cient reward for any sacrifice ? 

Last winter we had sickness among our pupils, 
some even unto death. Shall I ever forget the 
look that came over Juanita’s face as she turned 
to me and said slowly, and painfully, “I no 
fear to die, Miss Bella. You taught me — 4 Jesus 
love me this I know’ — he send you to care for 
the poor Indian, so he care for us too. I no 
fear.” 

And with these words on her lips the mes- 
senger came for her, and I felt that if there 
were no other reward than this for all my serv- 
ice it would be enough. Yes, 44 life is worth 
living ” when it is lived for others, and I bless 
God that he has led me all the way, step by 
step of my life journey until the present hour. 
No sorrow was sent that was not needed ; no 
blessing withdrawn but to bestow a greater in 
its place. The dear Lord’s pathway was not 
one of flowers, and “ It is enough for the disciple 
that he be as his Master.” We shall see his 
face some day. 44 Thine eyes shall see the 
King in his beauty ; they shall behold the land 
that is very far off.” What joy then if he shall 
say to me, weak, poor, humble follower, as I 
am, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of 
the least of these my brethren, ye have done 
it unto me.” 


TWO YEARS LATER. 


293 


“ Would she have walked more nobly, think, 
With a man beside her to point the way — 
Hand joining hand in a marriage link ? 
Possibly yes ; it is likelier nay. 

“ And dreads she never the coming years? 

Gossip, what are the years to her? 

All winds are fair and the harbor nears, 

And every breeze a delight will stir. 

“ She reads the hereafter by the here, 

A beautiful now and a better to be ; 

In life is all sweetness, in death no fear ; 

Ye waste your pity on such as she.” 


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